Flies Have Their House - Death In June

There’s a pox upon Blackheath

And it isn’t far beneath

Where three piggies choose to lie

Fly-blown piggies choose to cry

Every grabbin' mother needs

To see how those piggies feed

Their heads buried in the trough

40% was never enough

Piggie, Piggie, pay me

Schweinhund Piggie, pay me

Fly-blown Piggie, pay me

Or you will have no sty

Build their houses, pay taxes too

Petit bourgeois through and through

I do want to and I will if I have to

Ruin more than two calls could ever do

Not sure whether to laugh or cry?

I’ll make your mind up: weep

Not sure whether to live or die?

I’ll prepare your slaughter, sheep

Piggie, Piggie, pay me

Schweinhund Piggie, pay me

Fly-blown Piggie, pay me

Or you will have no sty

Every grabbin' mother needs

To see how three piggies feed

Their heads buried in the trough

50% was never enough

There’s a pox upon Blackheath

And it isn’t far beneath

Where three piggies choose to lie

Fly-blown piggies choose to die

I’ll pick up my burden

Ritually protect my heart

I’ll pick up my burden

Let the hating start

Life’s too short to live defiled

Life is precious so I’ll live life proud

I’m blessed and guided through eternity

I’ll confront my burden and set me free