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roundel of the divine farmer
we bend our necks to the almighty king
this is the proper posture of the prole
we must assume our old historic role
the sovereign people are out of the ring
we praise the givers of a measly dole
we bend our necks to the almighty king
in every temple we have learned to sing
in voices that ring out from empty soul
words that embrace the forces of control
we bend our necks to the almighty king
this is the proper posture of the prole
we must assume our old historic role
the sovereign people are out of the ring
we praise the givers of a measly dole
we bend our necks to the almighty king
in every temple we have learned to sing
in voices that ring out from empty soul
words that embrace the forces of control
we bend our necks to the almighty king