Building bridges out of kindling
That wiser men would burn away
Stitching together bits of straw
Drenched in Shiraz and Tanqueray
It drips like gravel down the throat
The swallowing of this truth
That enemies are more reliable
They give just what they promised to
They never back down
From the words that they have pledged
Nowhere else they would rather be
Than at the foot of your deathbed
Maybe with a smile
And maybe with a laugh
But you'll never toil alone
When you have Brutus at your back
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