Old Nightmares

We desecularised the old nightmares.

With trust in our swords and the strength in our hand,

but have no fear, this is no crusade.

Though we still fight the heathen and in his own land.

Never you mind, that your own homeland crumbles,

crushed at the whim of the priests of commerce,

who build temples of smoke on a basis of sand,

but summon the rains, with every prayer,

great showers of money, in which they may bathe,

Taxation or Yen, the taste is the same.

Whilst we scour the world for our faceless foe.

He sits tight in our cities, counting the dough.

Terrorists, Asteroids, a nuclear Iran,

Famine, Resource lock, Pestilence and War,

we have much to fear in the long days ahead

and a fearful folk are so easily led,

to the ballot, to the taxman and even to slaughter.

What will they take next, a son, or a daughter?

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