In insular paleness
drunk on indulgent arrogance
sloshed in jingoism of limeys incandescent with entitlement
they scribbled their scripts and laid tracks for their memorials
chorusing punk songs for punks while standing in sightless mirages
seeing is not theirs in this drama of madmen, dogs and the midday sun

In this isle of Dogs
birthed in fevered mental omissions
the witless cooked arsenic pie and mash feeding their kit and kin
we are pirates from the streets rings out in rallying calls shamelessly
while another deranged faction chorused 'we are Robin Hoods we are
and we see the dark Ages in the twenty-first century as Neanderthal minds frolic

In the green and pleasant fields
the sheep are fed hallucinating grasses and lying lilies
Simple minds sing Ballard of the Streets and Ghost Dancing, on loop
the rabbles, the Protection Money Racketeers, the Thugs and Pirates
with all the sheep became members of the Trade Union Congress
and in the bay of Pigs they are minting badges to honor and praise
People power