Stakes and Torches
Synagogues and Bayonettes
Scythes, Pitchforks
A Syckle with a sharpened edge
Swords and Spades
And mallots 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
Its so majestic
We are frozen in our awe
Grandmother cries
As she crumbles to her knees
"I can understand
That the rich demand
An ammount of luxury
But id have never dreamed
It was so extreme
While we had nothing to eat
