The improper little coppers in the bobby shop
Collect your breath and blood and piss and never stop
Refilling their distilleries with diligence
Until beverages brewed therein are fit to sell.
Bootlegging them in Black Maria motorcades
To every single pub and grub and club displayed
Then waiting in the evening for them to close
And pinching all the punters who are not composed.
Fuelling the rumours from the fourth estate
About urban no go areas and reprobates
Enabling the government to implement
More controls and cameras to curb dissent.
And so creating self sustaining prophecies
That keep the proles of population on their knees
Whilst all the middle classes are anaesthetized
Behind electric fences vended to them by the wise.
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