Callin' out Big B to the stage.
A'right original G, whatcha got to say?

Cos I pretty sure it ain't nothing worth knowin'
And we're still reelin' from that last shit you was sewin'
And my paper, well… it certainly ain't growin'

And ya wanted us on some computer
All high in the sky
These irrelevant schemes
Jus' weren't gonna fly
Poured in yer dough
And let it die
But when we stop and look at where that cash is comin'
It's the doctors, the teachers. The most important parts bein' told they got nothing?

Did ya think it was fair – to steal from your people!
Did ya think we'd lay down? We're Great, not "sheeple".
Maybe it ain't you
But I need some'n to blame
And you definitely responsible
For this other fucked up game.

They fly for us
They die for us
And when they come back
With a flag on their faces
The libby's have a field day
Callin' ya out on your disgraces
Ya send 'em to Hell
For twenny long years
Give 'em a pat on the back
Tell 'em we're with 'em all the way

But in reality – and reality's what counts – we ain't got a clue.
Ain't we done yet, with our people gettin' slew?

I see across the Atlantic,
It's a feelin' of change
They're in a time of reform
And we're stuck in times so strange

On paper they say that you the Authority
But on the street, what I hear,
It ain't less than derogatory
Are we all just confined to this social monotony?

You keep stallin'
Sayin': "Hey, where Dave at?"
And it ain't till next spring
That necessity claim that.
And DC'll be in,
For better or for worse.
But you best be makin' excuses.
For your political hearse.