It was the pig that had the sausage for breakfast this morning

Feeding itself more lies as it lay in mourning of the time before

When it was all about him

When he could take off those of whom he still takes from today

It was the meat that he had been given by the moon-faced man

Who was trying to get high in the little mafia of people with too much money

On a lump in the mud slightly higher than the rest of humanity

What would your mother think of you now

“Can you keep a secret?” he said to his friends who chortled away over the glass

For it was as long as it suited them that they kept this dirty deed out the eyes of other men

Since it would there be a time when it would relevant again

Such as to take the man down to a post back where he belonged

Rolling in the filth once again with his fellow men

However, the Moon Man bounced back

With his expensive hand-made suits and a patriotic tear in his eye

He looks across at those he considers weak and they say

What would your mother think of you now

Would she stand by you and a take a bow for the misdeeds you allow

What would your mother think of you now

Shit