Speculation is the sacred hand

Of cloaked aid schemes, full body bags

And payouts that rain on down from distant skies

Speculation is the sordid image

Of mamed, starving victims buried in rubble

While still they flog bombs that fall on Yemen

Speculation in the saviour's image

Bomb more schools, more bloodshed

Speculation in the saviour's image

More scorched earth, more false charity

Performative theatre is the monied liberal dream

Counting the dead with a twinkle in the eye

Performative theatre is the monied liberal dream

Counting the dead with a twinkle in the eye

Profit in mesh and bone the deft sleight of hand

Scores of hollowed bone and sinew

As long as cotton grows through barbed wire

Corpses filled with Western promise

A fair trade done for a bludgeoned son

One ward shelled, another door opens

No cry for peace when crude oil seeps

Through barbed wire