Rats run over my feet As I watch them in my sleep Terrors of sharp claws and teeth Shredding up the meat The paws stretch out to scratch In this bloody murderous match Hook-like claws catch And hold on in a true death latch Rat voices squeal As their relatives become a meal The bloody losing deal Its hard to remember its all real Rat pups take their first hard breath of air A great big blob of slicken hair Just to live a day they need all the care So what do they do when their parents aren’t there Starved to the point of near death All the fathers up and left All they can spare to buy more meth To forget about the leaders latest theft Scampering through the walls like moles Avoiding the cat paws sticking through the holes The enemy treated like dolls While the victims are left with empty souls Forgotten, pushed out of mind Left with all they can find So much to do to be considered kind Everyone just seems so blind Pinkies scatter round in fright No more can relief be found in daylight Ghost stories are out in with the stuff that just might The stuff about the killing and the fight Look around, everything's grey Even though it’s the middle of May All gathered around to here rats say It doesn't end here, not on this day Praying to a deity only some believe in Signing papers to ship their stuff off to their kin Through the cities always such a din To wish for yesteryear now becomes a sin Rats in charge abuse the power they get They think of all the things they've done, all the people they've met No matter what rats do, their minds are set Who will be better-it’s a gambling bet When war breaks out, everyone issued with a bomb and a gun Grabbing their young, looking for somewhere safe to run A doe stands with her pup, what has she done A ticking time-bomb that nobody knows-its all for fun I watch as the rats run over my feet I watch them run in my sleep We are the same, pointless lumps of bad meat Poisoned, killed off if we so much as peep What's the point of living here The deathly end is always near What's the point of living in fear What's the point, I ask you my dear. |