There's grit in her eyes and her teeth
There's acid in the joints of her limbs
The dawn is shivering grey, coughing to spit
The city sings its orders and its hymns

Each disease has set up home and settled in
There's order to her chaos and her decay
When she laughs, she laughs like the Devil
And she laughs at your ambition and dismay

She will have her revenge
On the young who never again
Will dare to insult her with attention
She'll scratch welts across their faces
Scar them, they deserve it, for their comfort and their nerve
And their pale flaccid weakness, most of all

You disgust her with your books empty of wisdom
You disgust her with your stories of yourself
She knew leaders, now she sees you on your belly
She sees you mewling dumbly for you health
She watches as you whine about your nature
She watches as you scramble for a [berth?]
She's been lonely, a thing of evil
Ever since the meek inherited the earth
She will have her revenge
On the traitors who are content
To do no more than exist
They'll feel the sting of her sharpened nails
Strut by unafraid, you will learn before you pay
You'll remember, you'll remember when she's done

Shivering upon her in the breathless chill of dawn
The press of the silence and the sleep
They'll swarm around her, strip her calmly to the bone
Pluck out tendon, lung and heartstring, scratch to reap

She hates you without cause and without reason
She hates you every moment that she wakes
There's nothing that you can do to placate her
There's nothing you can do to escape

[Outro x2]
She's a welt on the arse of England
A sore on its bleeding lip
And she will be waiting, watching for
The smile on your face to slip