Jethro Tull - The Zealot Gene

Half of us are in the apple;
Half of us are in the pie.
All of us are in the pudding
When the last bus has gone by.
Someone has to take the high road.
Someone has to make the bed.
No-one has the right to tell you
To lie down when all is said.

The black and white, the stereotype,
The polarising pitch at play
While some of us sit in between,
Interminable shades of grey.
No need to walk the tightrope,
Set out on that great divide.
The balance scales may tremble
But the featherweights are on your side.

Carrying the Zealot gene,
Right or left, no in between.
Beware, beware the Zealot gene:
Naked flame near gasoline.

The populist with dark appeal,
The pandering to hate
Which xenophobic scaremongers
Deliver on a plate
To tame the pangs of hunger
And satisfy the lust.
Slave to ideology,
Moderation bites the dust.

Bee buzzing in your bonnet
And a wasp right up the bum.
A V-8 under hood,
A cocked hammer under thumb.
Ear-splitting twitter thunder
And a screaming banshee wail.
You got too many opinions
And a tom cat by the tail.

Carrying the Zealot gene,
Right or left, no in between.
Beware, beware the Zealot gene:
Naked flame near gasoline.