Manipulation
He waved his Union Flag,
Sang God Save The King,
And when he passed away
Didn’t leave a thing.
Very quickly disposed of
By the state machine
In an unmarked grave
As though he’d never been.
The King sat in his palace
Unaware of the loss
And if he’d been told
Wouldn’t have given a toss.
Not the type of person
For his passing to matter,6
Not one of those wealthy
Who materially waxed fatter.
Just one of the lower order
Whose presence was a bore
Except as cannon fodder
In a nation’s time of war.
Manipulators still manipulate
And believers still believe,
The lonely and bereaved
Somehow find time to grieve.
His peers still waved the flag,
Sang God Save The King,
And i don’t believe
They’ll ever learn a thing.
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