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Please allow the ideas we entrust to you to grow. Lights that glimmer gently, in your eyes, we can’t let go. Surely your secureness based on where your monies flow, is destined to be stolen, as so many young thieves know. Tonight the voice the country picks speaks up from behind bars. As country bars roll belly-up, due to our poisoned farms and meekly our great country folds, breaks down and calls the farce. And tears swell up Britannia’s eyes, embarrassed, lost and ours! & when you finally wake you’ll flap for all that’s left’s not well. Less lost in dreams, as they split your seams; pity this pride built on lies still helps our chests up-swell...