Interview

 You're looking for a candidate

A cadet in uniform

Who will only answer yes

When you address his wardrobe

Who will march in line

And collect his benefits cheque

You aren't looking for

a rebel yet

Or someone with self-respect

You only want a jumbo jet

Or a dreadnought ship

Yes and you tell me I could make it yet

But you sure ain't looking for me

You want a hero

You want a public school cheerio

Or you want some young bullio

Ready with his rugby vest

You don't need a shakespeare

You don't need Some word smith

I can take it from the sound of it

You sure ain't looking for me

I better face facts

Or else have some heart attacks

That Britain is a farce act

And I'm not fit to play the fool

It's just case of tact

To be in school and follow the rules 

You'll grow up to be a good citizen

 To conform to all the bitterness

And the mocking humiliation

Of the class structure imposed on you

There's no escaping migration

What about reverse refugees?

Those fleeing discrimination

From the hands of British fools

The idiots in charge of institutions

Who govern to quell revolutions

By keeping the intelligentsia

Locked away with factory tools

And those of the upper classes

With all the money and wine glasses

Who only dain to play at farces

With their idiotic public school boy rules

Imposed on us through many chances

Seen on the playing fields or at dances

In which the social graces of life are schooled

How to beat your opponent with sheer speed

How to better them at greed

How to take and to succeed

How failure is but a weed

An unwanted look at nothingness

An emptiness, a bottomlessness

Some hole you never wish to go down

For there nothing can be won