Here’s to those that bought the lie
That the work was stolen by the migrants
Who didn’t even think to bat an eye
When their automated checkout tills were non-compliant
Made a circle out of salt on the ground
Stood inside and said “no one can get me now”
Whether bursting through the door to gun you down
Or leaning back with their arms folded while you drown

Some are holy
Some profane
Cuts that kill us slowly
While we heat up the blade

While bombs rained down
Seeds were planted in the ground
A nation state? A caliphate?
A vicious circle going round and round and round
From the ruins of Aleppo
To the gates into the palace of Westminster
Motivated
Carbon dated

Some are holy
Some profane
Cuts that kill us slowly
While we heat up the blade
Some are holy
Some profane
Cuts that kill us slowly
While we heat up the blade