Their Dreams Are Tumbling

The industrial walls are crumbling, dear old Blighty's stumbling
The people are sick and tired of their dreams forever tumbling
You've claimed your righteous status
Now there's fighting in the streets and it's contagious
They're full of hate and anger because they don't like traitors

Your belligerent ways will bring nothing but dark days
You forever justify yourself you're the so called image of clever wealth
So just carry on filling heads full of lies, and criticizing the lives you despise
You're a black soul with only one goal; to slither to the top
You won't stop till the helpless people fall foul of your victorious steeple

You'll keep the cogs turning for the Kings and Queens
While the poor old has-beens are left yearning for their dreams
Your satisfied smile is awfully vile, your morals are painted with a shade of black
Your traits are tainted with a passion to attack, but carry on seeking the weak 
Because you don't see the bleakness they do, you're stone heart sings
And you feel like a King