[Verse 1] The game was rigged from the start. Silk flags waving while the crowd claps at the cage. Roman senators feeding us bread, giving us a circus, Whispering about barbarians at the gates. They smear the walls, they tell you it’s fine. And if it’s broken? It’s YOUR fault for noticing. [Chorus] Oh, the herd marches on, tails swishing in the mud, Following the neon signs, paying with their blood. They change the shiny wrappers, but the rot is underneath, Smiling at the cattle with gold upon their teeth. It’s the same old story, rolling down the hill, The art of the con, and we’re paying the bill. [Verse 2] Middle Ages rolled in. Divine right. Kings claiming God signed the paperwork. Priests telling peasants curiosity is a sin, While the bishop's wine cellar dwarfs the whole village. They take your last chicken and call it a mystery. Suffering is holy... but the nobles never suffer. [Verse 3] Then the Enlightenment. Reason. Liberty. Top grade, hundred proof deception. New elites, same old tricks, they just changed the slogans. They repainted the slaughterhouse door. Covered up the blood with words like progress. And the cattle just kept mooing, waving their little flags. [Chorus] Oh, the herd marches on, tails swishing in the mud, Following the neon signs, paying with their blood. They change the shiny wrappers, but the rot is underneath, Smiling at the cattle with gold upon their teeth. It’s the same old story, rolling down the hill, The art of the con, and we’re paying the bill. [Verse 4] Skip to twenty twenty-six. Sleek. Digital. Pocket sized. Livestreaming the greed straight from a yacht. Algorithms doing the dirty work. They say inequality is natural. Like rain. Billionaires playing the benevolent shepherd. The slaughterhouse flashes in neon, but you’re too busy scrolling to look up. [Verse 5] And the Constitution? The crown jewel of procrastination. Beating itself senseless, pocketing the keys. Calling the hypocrisy a NECESSARY BALANCE. They toast with vintage champagne in their own postcodes. Telling you the contradictions are features, not flaws. The packaging changes. The smell stays the same. [Outro] The world is waking up. (The theme park is closing.) The world is waking up. (Stop walking to the slaughterhouse.) The world is waking up. ©2026 Trevor Swistchew and The Shady River Bard. All rights reserved.
