The wars of the world never heal
Never die
Hail to the throne
Glory to the kill
The games of the thrones don’t save
Only lie
Beckon to the call
Buy your wasted time
Dreams
Of the famous
And the riches
And the pride
Of the mansions
And the pensions
Picket fences
Little dogs
Slaves to your heartache
There is no sight to your aim
Pipe dreams
in the waters
that bring new life
to your blame
High off the horizon
Nothing, no-one slow you down
There’s no reason
Rhyme or wisdom
That will bring you to the ground
Treading on the lowly
Silence of the lambs
Masquerading liberty
Free to play your hand
But your hand is in the fryer
Like a frog in a pot
First it simmers
Then it boils
Then turns mince into slop
Pipe dreams in the waters
Nightmares falling down
Dreams
Of the riches
And the famous
And the proud
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