Berkshire Cunt-Conflict

Berkshire Cunt - Conflict Filled with love and compassion. As she fixes her make-up for a day of fun He reads the news, it depresses her. With reports of death by bomb and gun Astride their horses in the winter lanes. They smile at nature with tenderness They hear the call, hold hands with pride. And look down at the bloody mess And civilized upright citizens grin, as the dog's teeth tear at shrieking skin This ain't savagery; it's jolly old culture. As they stand and wait for death like vultures She laughs as the bloody fur's flying. Re-applies her lipstick as the animals crying He claims the tail as privileged prize. And kicks the mangled corpse aside The time has come when we all must turn around and start to think No more standing in the corner. Question the missing link The link that created the misery and pain. That sees the mistakes, but then makes them again You've heard it once; you'll hear it again. Your blood, their blood serves the same There they stand and there they grin. Never thinking or questioning "Why blood of innocents must be spilt". They smile but they can't hide their guilt That their life is built upon a pile of bodies. Slaughtered animals? Slaughtered squaddies? The pleasure they take from another's death. Hides the truth that murder feeds their wealth She smiles at him as dead eyes stare. He takes her hand and strokes her hair His fingertips soaked in misery are the mark of aristocracy And the broken form lying in the ditch. The handiwork of the dog and b**ch Bears the label of decency. The honour given so graciously And backs are slapped in celebration. The success of extermination Freedom maintained so humanely. As they wipe their hands of blame so bravely Back at home she wears the fur that proves his precious love for her Death and glory on her shoulders sit. As the master takes what's rightfully his Murder is committed in the guise of sport. Ripping flesh is given no thought Glasses are raised in dedication. The crime is given a justification Heart beats faster, eyes wide and staring. Death comes whistling cold, uncaring Slaughtered animals, slaughtered squaddies. Their wealth is built from murdered bodies