A persecution of authority based on ideals,
A whole new system is biting at the heels.
They’re baying for blood, rabid as mad dogs,
And they will take all they feel they are owed.
So, as this new day for design is calling,
New players enter the game,
They’re hungry for the glamour, attracted by the blame.
But not on them, no, they want the bones to chew on.
With their ideals attached to their claws,
Sprung out in order to tear the land to pieces.
These dogs – puppies longing to be wolves – are sick from the inside,
Ideologically, metaphorically and categorically outside of class,
As top dog they seem not to care about the mutts,
Nor the bitches, the scavengers and their pups,
Not even the runts – merely themselves,
Even as a whole nation screams “no!” they lock their jaws tighter,
Ready to cut us all to ribbons and threaten us with petrol and a lighter.