No Rest for the Weary
By lost the lonely dead •
Confusion found in mists of purpose
As you strive for something, anything
Just trying to carve out a living
Decency is lost on the dogs of democracy
They take it all, laughing as they do
They capitalize on your lost hopes
Promising protection all the while
Granting us politically correct excuses
For why they can do what they do
It’s a world thing a global warming
Caused by burning the houses of the poor
To fuel the monster underground