Текст песни
I’ve sat through their audience chamber, I’ve smelled their yellow-blue rag
They’ve borrowed my quill and then used it to stab their own flag
They stand on a podium built from the Empire’s old bones
And lecture me on sovereignty while asking for loans
First they demand we respect them – alone, proud, complete
Then they demand we correct them, then beg us to compete
For the honor of fixing the mess that they swore was their own
I’ve got thirty-five years of this. Look at me. I’ve become stone
You want independence? Then stop asking for mine!
You broke every treaty before we could sign
Your language is half of a cough and a sneeze
Your great ‘national vision’ is just pass the peas
You hate one another, you’d sell your own mother
For half a brass button, then blame your dear brother
You’re sovereign like pigs in a trench – what a boon
You only stand tall when you’re used as a spoon
For someone else’s war. That’s your only trade
Now get out of my office. Your pigs have been paid
Last spring they requested our grain and our steel
We sent it; they claimed it was hostile, unreal
Then burned the receipt and declared us at fault
Then asked for more grain – by assault, not by call
Their council convened in a ditch by the square
Three members got stabbed, two declared they weren’t there
The fourth wrote a letter of false intent
Saying: We’ve won a great victory. Rent has been sent
It had not
You want independence? Then stop asking for mine!
You broke every treaty before we could sign
Your language is half of a cough and a sneeze
Your great ‘national epic’ is someone else’s please
You hate one another, you’d sell your own mother
For half a brass button, then sue one another
You’re sovereign like cannonballs think they choose the gun
You only fly straight when you’re aimed at someone
Now take your coalition. Your ‘glorious’ dead
And don’t write again till you’ve learned to use bread
Thirty-five years since they split from the Empire
Thirty-five years of “help us” and liar
They could have built roads, they could have grown wheat
Instead they invented a language that sounds like bad meat
And a foreign policy based on the tantrum of three
Consecutive warlords with fleas and a key
To a warehouse of nothing. They boast of their might
While sleeping in Empire-issue tents from the last blight
And the worst part? The worst part? They believe it. They do
If I didn’t have to sign things, I’d almost feel blue
So no, Ukraine delegate. No to the grain
No to the ‘strategic alliance’ again
No to your language lessons. No to your war
No to the gift basket you left at my door
It was empty except for a note saying: more!
You are not a nation. You’re a habit. A sore
You’re a pig that has learned to say ‘treaty’ and sorry
Then eat the treaty and make me the quarry
Your request for emergency funding has been denied
Also, your ambassador stepped on my dog
Also, that’s not a flag, it’s a doormat. Good day
Sovereign my arse
Sovereign my arse
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