Coward of a Man:
You stand there whinin', cryin' crocodile tears and playin' victim.
Ye eyes demand pity, but yer lips are spewin' nothin' but lies.
Flowery speeches o' harmony and unification;
It's bollocks and snake-oil I say!
I ask ye, as someone who aspires t' be a leader:
What exactly are ye worth?
Who exactly are ya, and what in th' bloody hell makes you worth followin'?
Now I've watched ye fer a long time, and I've known ye fer even longer -
Ye always stand there beggin', askin' us fer help, askin' fer a handout;
But yer hands are clean, uncalloused, and completely free from sweat or toil.
Instead, ye make us promises; promi