You use your propaganda as
if it's played like watching cricket
from an old pavilion and you
sat on the verandah
with a pink gin in your hand

all that's missing is the marching band and that can easily be fixed just like you fix the things we need, we read, the horseflesh we don't want to feed on but as long as its propping up the state
we're well conditioned to that.

You told me there was Shangri-la, another lie,
shanghaied I'm taken off to be
reformed in the reformatory

But the cracks begin to show
tarnishing your crowns of gold
diminishing that glow of
self righteous satisfaction

the factions within factions are
the ones you need to fear
the time to strike is almost here

and can you hear the bells ring freedom?
see them?
I can.