in no great haste

in no great haste to change the solemn art

that deals with those who cannot render ease

in modern terms we make a florid start

presenting our regards upon our knees

as if our thoughts were villain amputees

regarding with some horror how the strain

of vision reaching through this veil of rain

has no effect on motion nor on rate

all in the end must seep into the brain

where only losers claim to lead the state

 

both rich and poor rub shoulders in the mart

while finding nothing that could truly please

an honest mind or else a yearning heart

since all the market has is hopping fleas

and some lost objects baking in the breeze

there's not a single value to retain

and all our hope might just go down the drain

as laughing gargoyles seem to contemplate

you cannot speak except now to complain

where only losers claim to lead the state

 

no one today would ever give a fart

for decent laws or honest high decrees

the vultures wait until the wolves depart

then each devours the carrion that it sees

there's no means left the monster to appease

just throw another turd upon the wain

since we have read the signal very plain

the door is shut and rescue's come too late

all that is left is one more ugly stain

where only losers claim to lead the state

 

prince as you look out from the morning train

you'll see the same old shadow once again

don't think of it as duty nor as fate

that's just a path that leads you to more pain

where only losers claim to lead the state