Cable Street Again
Ashenspire
This is where it starts: A sinecure sleight-of-hand
To saturate postures with wormwood and gall
Settle with hatred and you’ll bow on command
Compromise doubly and compromise all
Fascism hammers out his hooks
On scapegoat anvils beneath your nose
Perhaps your eyes will follow suit
As your hearing, hearing, hearing fucking goes
This is where it goes
When breaking point’s reached
The dry-rotted floorboards will always give way
And thus once again the sealed vault is breached
In cycles and cycles of silent decay
Rot and negligence
Scarcity’s false, except for the truth
The Bindweed is once again taking root
I hope you like poverty, breathing in soot
And the taste of leather off Britain’s boot
Desperate times call for disparate measures
A few misdirections to change how the pressure discharges
I see the forked tongue in the ear
Of the strained and both barrels
Retrained on the ones in the margins
These dispossessed people, silver-eyed
Glazed with a mirror of trauma
Boats sunk in a wash of formaldehyde
The Tollen’s reagent scars the iris anew
So hold your tongue, or I’ll hold it for you!
The violence is here
Modern Blackshirts in the streets
What good is civility in the face
Of a kerb full of teeth?
‘Tis no broken system but the product of it
You cannot fix that which is working as intended
Gnashing-toothed printing press
Virulent, caustic
They bound the fasces themselves
Sharpened the axe
Know this: They aren’t resting
Nor reading the rules
They’re desperate for war, gagging for it
If it’s to be Cable Street again
We won’t win through debate
You can’t reason with malice
The fasces must break
If this is against the grain
Then the blight really has set in
The furrowing of brows
And the festering of blame
Misshapen and bent
It’s not the fucking corner shop
That drives up your
They salted the soil!
Buried up to your neck
In the debts of your station
But this is where it ends
There’s no middle road
And I tell you
Get down off the fence
Before the barbed wire goes up