Breaking Britain Part Two

He eats and shits
And shits and eats
And eats and shits some more
You know the shit
You’ll hear you think
When he begins to talk
Of foodstuffs
And fisticuffs
An England that’s broke
A tirade between mouthfuls
Can of lager
Jack and Coke
Respect our flag
Fuck off you slag
A fat stain on a paper bag
A drag of vape
There’s no escape
You know there’ll be no peace
While he feeds on the grease
Of the recently deceased
It’s all the fault you see
Excepting present company
You know the rest
It’s a test
Of your identity
Men of fighting age
In women’s clothes
It’s all the rage
That’s why he loathes
Any threat he sees
To flags and families
Already battered in the breeze
Of top-down austerity
He eats and shits
And shits and eats
And eats and shits on yours
You wonder how much shit you’ll eat
To find a common cause