Post Truth Identity

Broken promises in a broken isle
Big society, it took a while
To realise it was all a prank
Instigated by those clowns from the Bullingdon rank

Taking benefits from the broken people with their broken smiles
Lining silk pockets, a cheap trick, as wrong as it is vile

Rule Brittania
the hypocrite of the waves
They won’t even promise a living wage
Big society gives way to a massive lie
Will a nation see the need to live in modern times

Fox hunting and no taxes in the off shore haven
Fucking hell, might as well be speaking Scandinavian

Big society
jobs for the boys
Big society
It’s all white noise
It’s all very white
It’s all very straight
If you don’t do what’s right
Then none of us are safe.

If you listen closely you will hear him cry. The man who couldn’t afford to eat – so he politely died
That’s all too convenient for the blue suits and ties.

What’s our identity in this post truth mire

Blue birds feasting on redacted contracts

all so the cranes can lift the oblivion higher

They’ve got no permission to pour ash into lungs if you try to challenge it they tape up your tongues

The hills and the trees beauty unfettered don’t think without action we can make the sky better

They are selling off the family jewels
Without the blinking of an eye
Our services, our dignity, all gone by sunrise

But it’s not too late as long as you’re awake
Don’t let the poor and the sick be the scapegoat for debate
Put your cross in the box for the beggars at your feet. Let compassion grow from the blood on the street.

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