Beak Street

 

Riot police at Beak Street station,
the military beak,
the masked violation
of our right to speak,
thought police operation.

Carnival against capitalism;
People power retrieval.
Dancing, colours and drums,
Tis all pretty peaceful,
Until the policy enforcer comes.

A pre emptive attempt,
To shut down dissent,
Imminent destruction,
Of our right to peaceful,
Democratic objection.

In Beak Street Station
From the window cast,
A big yellow sign,
No pasaran, None shall pass,
Dance on the balcony,
Gaining more publicity,
For our lost democracy.

No pasaran – None shall pass,
Masked police capture a man in a mask!
Can they not look past,
One another’s eyes,
Beyond the disguise,
That the one percent,
Has put on the ninety nine?

Yes constable, take off your mask,
This world is yours and mine!

Military policy enforcer,
Coming in hard with,
An angle grinder.
Break down the barricades,
And power of the people,
Imagine you are free,
Send us home feeling feeble.

And a man willing,
To throw himself of a roof,
In dedication to the truth,
Distress pinned in a stretcher,
Shaking his bloody head.
Fully prepared,
For powerful dissent,
To risk his neck for the 99 percent,
So if you think you have won,
It’s only just begun,
This relentless malcontent.

Riot police at Beak Street station,
the military beak,
the masked violation
of our right to speak,
thought police operation.

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