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The Tory Party Conference


Suits meet and mate

Fondling wallets to stifle compassion.

Rich clothes covering acres of nothing

Old ladies worth their weight in gold

Cheering plans to beggar their sisters

Nazi infiltrator, Union Jack Phallus

To him you're a traitor: Crop haired and callous,

He'll deal with you later.

Old soldiers

Fearing the future

Hating the present

Missing the past


Gold lust in their eyes

Shouting Pri-vat-ise Pri-vat-ise

Black Lawyer Clapping

A speech on Immigration

Thinks they want him

In their nation

Unemployed manager

Licking the feet

Of the men who'll throw him

Onto the street

The Tory Party.

England wouldn't be

The same

Without them

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