Stakes and torches,nScimitars and bayonets,nScythes, pitchforks,nA sickle with a sharpened edge.nSwords and spades,nAnd mallets that are made of lead.nnAnything at hand,nAnything they can,nHelp us to remove the headnOf that filthy rich,nFat son of a bitch,nWhile he's sleeping in his bed.nnStorm the steps,nWe break into the palace hall.nIt's so majestic,nWe are frozen in our awe.nGrandmother cries as she crumples to her knees,nsays, I can understand,nThat the rich demand,nAn amount of luxury.nBut I'd have never dreamed,nIt was so extreme,nWhile we had nothing to eat.