We've been cautioned to surrender
Before jack-boots hit our streets;
It was an open warning
With podium bleats like sheep.

They side-stepped all discretion,
They pivoted 'round masked stealth;
They aired their anonymity
On the media's lips of wealth.

And there, behind the curtain skirts,
Lurking in the wings,
In shadows and back street doors,
They listened,
Pulling strings.