The Tramps of Taro Sound

The Tramps of Taro Sound
 Sit and watch the wind
 Running ships aground.
 They give no warning cries,
 But they charge no fare
 So, I guess it's alright.
 Living off the spoils of the war,
 I sold my wife and children
 For a trench along the shore.
 As the ships go down,
 No one talks about
 The other side of town...
 They're handing trophies out to all young things
 Who can distract their country for the King,
 And keep the vultures occupied.
 Over in the reservoir
 Another debutante
 Is readied for his grand departure.
 The Elders of the Last Regime
 Watch from the wings
 And make sure that every exit's covered.
 Then they fill him with slaughterhouse gin
 And forty counts of brine
 In memory of the Wheezing Ulcers.
 As he sails into the sound,
 There are no holidays
 On the other side of town...
 After we've had our fun
 And the spoils are long gone,
 Can't shake the phlegm of paranoia.
 The wind rails and screams
 As we try to keep our ship
 Together at the seams.
 But it soon disintegrates
 And we see their throbbing eyes
 Watching from the banks.
 They gave no warning cries,
 But they charged no fare -
 So, I guess it's alright