Stakes and torches,
scimitars and bayonets
sycthes, pitchforks,
a sickle with a sharpened edge
Swords and spades
and mallets that are made of lead

Anything at hand,
anything that can,
help us to remove the head
of that filthy rich,
fat son of a bitch while
he's sleeping in his bed

Storm the steps
we break into the palace hall
It's so majestic,
we are frozen in our awe
Grandmother cries
as she crumples to her knees, says
"I can understand that the rich demand
an amount of luxury.

But I'd have never dreamed
it was so extreme
while we had nothing to eat.