I saw a newspaper picture from the politicalcampaignA woman was kissing a child, who was obviouslyin painShe spills with compassion, as that young child'sface in her hands she gripsCan you imagine all that greed and avaricecoming down on t hat child's lipsWell I hope I don't die too soonI pray the Lord my soul to saveOh I'll be a good boy, I'm trying so hard to behaveBecause there's one thing I know, I'd like to livelong enough to savourThat's when they finally put you in the ground I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt downWhen England was the whore of the worldMargeret [sic] was her madamAnd the future looked as bright and as clear asthe black tarmacadamWell I hope that she sleeps well at night, isn'thaunted by every tiny detail'Cos when she held that lovely face in her handsall she thought of was betrayalAnd now the cynical ones say that it all endsthe same in the long runTry telling that to the desperate father who justsqueezed the life from his only sonAnd how it's only voices in your head anddreams you never dreamtTry telling him the subtle difference betweenjustice and contem ptTry telling me she isn't angry with this pitifuldiscontentWhen they flaunt it in your face as you line upfor punishmentA nd then expect you to say 'Thank you'straighten up, look proud and pleasedBecause you've only got the symptoms, youhaven't g ot the whole diseaseJust like a schoolboy, whose head's like a tin-canfilled up with dreams then poured downthe drainTry te lling that to the boys on both sides, beingblown to bits o