1789

Oh seventeen eighty nine, hunger’s scream
The guillotine asks for a dusting, fix its blade
How many more kings are here to stay?
How many more heads upon the necks?
Today the king isn’t clean, bring a sponge
So we can clean all the blood from the lord
How many more kings are here to stay?
How many more heads upon the necks?
Oh seventeen eighty nine, citizens born
Let’s hope it lasts a hundred thousand million years
How many more kings are here to stay?
How many more kings are here to die?