All The King's Men

And so in the tradition of Manfred the Great

The people built the glorious vision in his name

Great Britain they called it, a land for heroes

A land where no one was starving, a paradise, a garden of Eden

The garden of Eden, levelled to the ground

And concreted over, re-built from scratch

With I.C.I. man-made fibres, they made their paradise out of plastic

But our world is cracked and it's showing through

The plastic backed cello-taped superglue

The paper money and the patched up lies

The cover-up jobs, the fact they try to hide

That all the king's horses and all the king's men

Will never stick our world together again

With their plastic, sticky-backed, red-taped lies,

And all the paper money they exchange for our lives

Think about it, our world, all the ecological catastrophes

They're happening all at once, at the same time now

Mankind to the rescue, I ask you why?

To him tomorrow is just another fucking day fucking up the earth

Filling his fat silver-lined pockets full

So please listen, dear peoplekind

See the reason that minkind won't save the earth

Cos there's no money in it for him, it's not worth his while

It's up to us

It's up to us

It's up to us, each and every one of us