Our executioner lights a spliff
spun with democracy and fear
it preaches hate fuelled peace
whispering directions in our ear
It giggles and gets the munchies
the master plan is clear!
To cannibalise you and I
the final supper is here.
It leads us to a table
and as puppets we begin to feast
on our own ideas and thoughts, our culture and song
we pray for a saviour from our deeds.
BUT we eat on and on
convinced this is home
thinking life is a party
while fuelled by a being that hates love
And now we've given up
we're lost and we are stuck
we open our eyes to see
we just ate our luck.
These beings won!
cannibalised us just for fun
and now with no power
Our hour has come!
Our executioners spliff is done!
in it comes for home run
raping and killing
with the power of the sun...
But out come the faceless
A counter culture, one made of
Humans who came and flipped The Final Feasts table
pure expression and art
poetry, love,
hard work and comfort, all things that flow from the heart
They end the age of execution
And we start our fun
