Morning has broken, yet again I am
Woken. What the, fires an alarming toll
Poking, again n’ again. It’s 4 AM
And I am smoking, ball point on a roll
My morning broken, thought now locked n’ chained
Continuously provoking, a Go’d damned
PUSSY RIOT! PUSSY RIOT! Mocked and blamed
It’s 5.30 a pig squealed, as it burned
Mourning broke, others choked, while I chuck one
Into a rolling ashtray. Ah, smell that
Coffee. An early bird caught by a worm
Turning. The screws tighten and that is that
It’s sicks, sixteen sorry eighteen rising
Death’s Bell tolls, on and on, anon, uprising.
P.S. I was hoping to have this as a video, but my equipment said no, so I have not, and since I wish to strike while the iron is hot, here she is.