Footwork

In honor of our re-elected Prime Minister.  One day.

Mister Mister Mister Bossman

Your words don’t match that red in your eyes

The smirk you flash so floated by cash

And while you get off

We’re tryin to survive

Cuts and muzzles

Books swapped for banks

Prorogue our way to a corner on the side

Fuckin with our food

Babies no love

Blow out the sun to make the temp run high

Meanwhile

Men so senile

Sit atop the totem

Captains of the beguile

Axe out

Swing Camp Lo

Watch the pole crash as we stand so bold

Chest out

Proud glow

No one left up that could tell me so

So here we go

Left, right, tempo

Careful on the step

Easy on the soles