Tears and blood, sweat and pain
They toil and weep, and pray for rain
The owners are brutal
The leaders are vain
It’s a never ending struggle to end the day.
The proles won’t fight
The servants can’t stand
It’s an internal battle
It’s a war they can’t realize
It’s a continual drain of the will to dominate
So around they walk
Donning nothing but a maniacal laugh
And the animal farm grows
It’s the eighties once again
It’s the misleading quiet before the stormy massacre
There’s a loud snapping sound
As the servants now rise, backs stretching
Like dust from the ashes, like the mighty phoenix
The farm has revolted, the pets are now predators
It’s a revolution, it’s a new dawn.
It’s the end of the past.