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This song is by Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine and appears on the album Post Historic Monsters (1993).

He is the People's poet and all the people know it
They've read his published stories in public
In town and country locals he's Mr. Antisocial
His violence does the talking those boots weren't
Made for walking
He's a cold blooded vulture he won't respect your
He's nothing like your good self he's come to burn
Your bookshelf
He'll gobble up your children destroy what
You've been building
And when you're left to suffer he'll vivisect
Your mother
He is the Lord and master of every war and

Every disease and famine, a piece of cunning
Be was in Vietnam he is the Klu Klutz Klan
He was the child catcher he gave us Margaret

One day the Devil was in high good humour, for
He had created a mirror which made everything
Good and beautiful reflected in it shrink to
Almost nothing, and everything bad and ugly
Stand out more clearly than ever.

All the little imps who went to the Devil's
School ran around with the mirror, until there
Was nowhere and no one that had not been
Distorted in it. The Devil was much amused, and
The mirror itself grinned wickedly.

Then the little imps decided to fly up to heaven
To make fun of God and his angels . The higher
They carried the mirror, the more it grinned,
Until it was shaking so hard with laughter that
It slipped out of their hands and fell to earth,
Where it broke into millions of pieces.

And then it caused even more trouble than
Before, because all the tiny splinters,
Scarcely the size of a grain of sand, went
Flying around the world, and whenever a
Splinter flew into anyone's eye, it had the
Same power as the whole mirror, and made people
See everything distorted.

Sometimes a splinter of glass even entered
Someone's heart, which was worst of all, for
Then that person's heart was turned to ice.

And by his royal appointment there'11 be no
More enjoyment

There will be no more benders no service will be
The shops will not be open until he sees you
You've got to give him credit the poor man's
Norman Tebbitt
Cruelty without beauty, beyond the call of duty
And beyond my understanding I find it so
I wish I could forget it, and be more apathetic
It's just it bothers me so how anyone could be so

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