|Sporting a pinstripe and wearing the regiment's tie,
|Blood in his eye - the world on his shoulders.
|Trims his moustache while he's dreaming of destiny's hour,
|Greedy for power -
|Ready to save the nation, and lead us in the fight,
|Never a doubt that everything he does is right.
|Neat little man who's been chosen by Fate to redeem
|The national dream: Imperial Greatness.
|St. George with a briefcase, he's looking for dragons to slay,
|Waits for the day -
|We ask him to save the nation, and lead us in the fight,
|Never a doubt that God is absolutely white.
|Standing alone on the bridge, he's defending the race,
|Setting his face against the invader.
|Knowing the worth of a man can be seen by his skin,
|The killing begins -
|Determined to save the nation, and lead us in the fight,
|Never a doubt that virtue is pure unblemished white.
|Trapped in a bunker and died like a rat in a hole,
|Ultimate goal of second-hand heroes.
|Another one rises, demanding the right to be heard,
|And gets the bird -
|History shrugs its shoulders. Gives a big horse-laugh,
|And the cut-price hero ends up with the rest of the trash!