Group think in unison disarray
morons looking for Camelot in mob's dive
we spoil for mind war but pray lend us our minds
in cloudy storms of magical red rains our brains were washed
to pristine white
Our masters tell us
its a remote affair so show us the moat
we will swim float and jump
masters says its a revolution
we are revved up but spare us the elocution
Some are saying this is mindless but we could not care less
though those wenches were careless
when they stole from the Moor
who was not from the moors in North York
A bright spark said its a vendetta of thieves
they cut of his tongue and said his brains had not
been washed proper
that he was calling a spade a spade
yet the masters had taken our pitchforks and cudgels away
them dumb masters keeps on saying remote remote
and then control, control, then, power, power
now if you ask me fellow hicks in unison
this really is no time for cunt roll
neither is it a time to go to the moat, what's it with this re moat
then they say its tower, tower
in Cromwells' name
are we being told to go via the moat for a cunt roll in the tower
don't blame me they washed my brains a while ago.....