The British Disease - Gene

With the world on its knees

And the British diseased

I’ll stumble forward

I will offer my hand

My intentions are grand

Bring your firearms on board

We will give you more

No promise broken

Will be forgotten

Now the cynical few

Rise above me and you

From street to seashore

Do we get what we’re due

Can I take my cue

From those still adored?

We will give more

No promise broken

Will be forgotten

No blind devotion

No lies forgiven

I guarantee