South Africa you bring shame on yourself

South Africa can whistle down the wind to me
Can make so many excuses but cannot make me see
How they leapt like lemmings down into their pit
their iconic Kings and Queens they treat like so much shit
from them these wild subjects rape their every need
deprive them of their freedom
fleece them till they bleed
then sell their bodies to the vile Americans
pseudo hunters who expect that they
can pay misbegotten deeds
to the South African’s
who offer up their contracts
just to pave the way

Lions are captives
farmed can you believe that
the arrogance of man his greed and woe
blood sucking plundering creeps
wicked for he who reaps
a profit, and these Americans bloody well know
no time at all spent actually a stalking
which is hunting
a lodge some booze and a captive LION set free
to be shot up by perhaps a half drunk hunter
a heartless careless infidel who be

rich and can afford whatever cost there is
and so the sacrifice is made and they
are picked up at the airport
provided with their passes
and watched as they put
a full grown Lion away
bred to kill a miracle demolished
a life creation set upon this world
so South Africa and its wicked trophy hunters
can come and kill each victim which is hurled

into a place a maelstrom of great darkness
the Lions set free a day to have their fling
it is in fact a felony its devious and ugly
in point of fact they are the actually the King
we rape our Lions and murder them
we are the chosen few
who have the power to kill great beasts
that were always good and true

corruption and improbity
the order of their day
good-for-nothing scoundrels
who only know one way
of carrying on the process
detached from all thats good
clearly in denial
their turpitude it would

be seen to be just treachery
and a betrayal let us say
spotless and immaculate
see the Lions have lost their way
no longer Kings, their majesty
traduced down to a low
corrupted by these evil men
whose profit base does grow

and so the state the lions are in
bloodied and alone
never fed on fresh wild game
you can feel my tone
they are merely pawns in the great
chess board in the sky
given very little
and so consigned to die

canned hunting is the vile result
its greed of a pitiless life
its exceptionally terrible
drawing down this strife
its unsociable and sinful
its a scourge for all mankind
recidivists and gangsters
their pockets clearly lined
with remnants of true evil
with the prejudice of woe
where is the voice of conscience
now where did it go

when rogues are out there delving
to be part of that club
as the angels seemingly
are dying in the scrub
many bleeding profusely
thats the rotten wrong
high fives sadly everywhere
even where they don’t belong

and loads and loads of bones
skins and tails and manes from males
hear those over tones
the trophy on the dusty wall
to prove the power of man
the fucking jelly gutted arse
who is nobody’s fan

South Africa don’t be surprised if more nations boycott you and see you as pariahs