A million stars sparkling outside in the gloom.
So beautifully gleams the sky of night.
While sleepers sleep impeccably within the realms of rest in peace.
Tomorrow shall they arise again.
As bright as sparkling diamonds

Once more to face the daily strain.
Daily toils, once more.
Of potentially going to war.
Hopping on commuter trains.
Like penguins up for catching fish.
Served up on a guilt edged dish.
Poor Michael, he was one you know.
Laughed at the fact.
That the wind wouldn't blow.
Who remembers poor old Michael Fish?

War in the city.
Where politicians swing as pendulums.
The wind in the house the hot type.
Emitted from many stuck up butts.
Whiffs and Whigs.
Broken twigs.
No notice paid to issues green .
In service of H.M the Queen.

Don't know what they're voting for.
A few rude words spoken.
A group of noisy chaps so ******.
A gang of wild animals.
They're starting to squabble.
Politicians party.
Unholy rabble.

Reading speeches from notes.
Prepared by someone else.
The lady of the house.
Picked up the latest speech.
Just a little p*ssed.
He didn't grab his speech at all.

Was just a shopping list.
Stood up on the podium,
Check out his change in mood.
His most profound of words.
Was just a list of food.

Queer as a fish.
Hate to say.
The nicer ones, just merely gay.
They're just as queer as kippers are.
Vocal politicians supporting the bar.

Debate over.
Time to head home.

Steps into the ministerial car.
The tatty black car,
Heap of scrap metal.
Press car in pursuit.
Put your foot hard to the pedal.
Another boo boo, that nobody missed.
The p.m's speech and the shopping list.
(c)LIVVI