The
sleeping leaders wake
When
they smell the general election is near
They
will start to strum their guitars
Drumming
up the wrong keys
The
fingers run the fret boards
Giving
up all kinds of riffs
They
think they look cool
Pulling
wools over the eyes
The
people aren't listening
The
failed leaders to the bin
These
leaders should be retired
Yet
they think they are relevant
Maybe
the pockets are less heavy
They
want to fill it up again
Bring
out their guitars
They
strum the chords and riffs
But
the drumbeats
Of
the stomping feet
Shaking
up the political life
The
blues must be sent to the gong
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