London Irish living in Sydney Australia, fingers in lots of pies. Lover of a ditty. Q led and Irish soda bread.
The Devils Dancefloor:
Taking a waltz on the devils dancefloor we know the score that deep down inside we're on a ride our past they hide every day they lied and built a perfect cage for their mental slaves as our backs were broken for meaningless tokens energy misdirected no change whatever whoever was elected war war and nothing more the world was asleep the outlook was bleak the world was asleep.
But 4 years back in the land of the free replanted was the liberty tree an oak of a man he came with a plan. Truth shaking corruption out of the roof he's gone to DC and called out the rats whilst sitting back and setting traps and watch as rats do what rats do cannot help a little chew they take the bait to fill up their plate it's all on tape the narrative you no longer shape
The talking heads have made their beds going down with the ship drip drip drip information came slow at first every time Q disappeared we feared the worst but trust the plan and stat the course in the race we have
our horse as the world tried to tear him down out the woodwork every clown he stood his ground and bit by bit he ground them down to dust they shall return ready for an eternal burn.
