In a conference of murderers

who can you trust?

 

All those knives

all those lies

 

In an alliance of economies

where do you bank?

 

No place of residence

no character reference

 

With your back to the wall

you have only fists, feet and teeth

 

You fight with no rules

because they made the rules

 

When you're betrayed and hung out

you have nowhere to turn

 

When your rights mean their victory

do you recognise theirs?

 

And those who stand in appeasement

to feather their own cowardice

 

do they believe their reward will come soon

when the weak are so easily culled?

 

The conference of murderers

is an omen foretold

 

Murder will no longer be murder

if killing is not done

 

So ready your armour disown all goodwill

mark well your targets and kill fucking kill...