Speak of heroes You're swift to nominate them Darling, be a sacrificial lamb Poor boys fighting peasants in foreign lands How loudly you praise them Oh, but where were you then? Off dancing with your debutante Her skin is soft and warm, her eyes are cold and dead It serves the greedy well to say men's hearts are dark But I believe there'll be a light that shines Which now is just a spark No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters Bury the last Sons of avarice Go tell the teachers and nurses and soldiers They must be lazy and/or dumb While you, you earn a hundred to one But don't you fucking utter the word meritocracy So what's our priority? With people or markets being free? I hear Sudan is a dusty place And every day a few less black faces It serves the greedy well to say men's hearts are dark But I believe there'll be a light that shines Which now is just a spark No gods, no masters No kings nor their court jesters Bury the last Sons of avarice