Speak of heroes You're swift to nominate them Oh, darling be a sacrificial lamb Oh, poor boys fighting peasants in foreign lands
How loudly you praise them Oh, but where were you then? Off dancing with your debutante Her skin is soft and warm But her eyes are cold and dead
It serves the greedy well To say men's hearts are dark But I believe there'll be a light that shines Which now is just a spark
No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters Bury the last Sons of avarice
Tell the teachers and nurses and soldiers They must be lazy and/or dumb While you, you earn a hundred to one Oh, but don't you fucking utter the word Meritocracy
So what's our priorities With people or markets being free I hear Sudan is a dusty place And every day a few less black faces
It serves the greedy well To say men's hearts are dark But I believe there'll be a light that shines Which now is just a spark
No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters Bury the last Sons of avarice
No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters Bury the last Sons of avariceTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
