Stakes and torches
Stakes and torches scimitars and bayonets
Scythes, pitchforks
A sickle with a sharpened edge
Swords and spades
And mallets that are made of lead
Anything at hand anything that can
Help us to remove the head
Of that filthy rich fat son of a bitch
While he's sleeping in his bed
Storm the steps
We break into the palace hall
It's so majestic we are frozen in our awe
Grandmother cries as she crumples
To her knees says, "I can understand
That the rich demand an amount of luxury
But I'd have never dreamed
It was so extreme
While we had nothing to eat"
