A secret art of keeping friends in high places
It's Zen and the art of Dictator Maintenance
At the weapons expo
the British High Commissioner thanks
General Bastard for buying more tanks
Peaceful pledges so plausibly made
All torn through in the name of trade
Exploit the arms race
Paint up our other face
A little war is always good for business
The price of oil and the flow of refugees
Are intertwined with our foreign policy
Self-righteous anger may give comfort but it's bunk
Cos whose fault is lack of jobs or council housing stock?
So where does all the blood money go?
They've got a holding cell in case you might know
but they pipe back the pictures
with the solemn descriptions
and someone in Woking gets slightly put off their dinner
Guaranteed to detonate or your money back
Guaranteed to maim, my friend
And as half the world blows lumps out of each other
We can look out from our island fiction with pride
As we know that Britain's keeping up one of its finest traditions:
Arming both sides.