We two hard men of arms as brothers roam the Commons
Encounter pushy spin doctors, one, two, and three
Whispering dark prophesies, with their cackling and their moaning
I am seduced by wicked promises of the Walpole house to me

Here rule I from high on Dunsinane Hill
But first, I have to banish, blame the deed on servile others
They must be cast out into exile and gone without delay
God save me, king of cabinet, now I look over my shoulder
To see my brother warrior, damned spot to wash away
Such treachery unbecoming tears my heart strings still strumming
But my options grow diminished, no choice but to betray

See the wooded lower chamber, a cloak of green disguise
I nurse bleak imaginings amidst that Quercus wall
Mere matter of delusion, no Speaker's firm intrusion
Let guilty solace soon surpass the tears that fall

I shall reign resolved, proud, never vanquished until
Great Birnam Wood comes to high Dunsinane Hill
To high Dunsinane Hill

In the Tipu house, there's a quiet and distant babble
Marital possibilities for all a kind in the air
Secrets for better dowries, for joining better families
Whispered promises in the hubbub of the market square

Oh, God's children play in the toxic city garden
Stealing from their brethren a saucy view of war
Of domestic incidents, a guilty copulation
The day of books and roses shown firmly to the door

In the Tipu house, there are forever changes
Young gladiators nourished by the football terrace beat
Aspired to fly in the moneylenders' temples of Madrid
Dream hungry dreams in smooth Brioni, turning up the heat