(Inspired by, and to the tune of, The Day the Nazi Died by Chumbawamba)

They said it couldn’t happen here,
they said the threat had passed;
that fascism was a relic
in a history book at last.

They told us we were safe now,
that the danger had been slain,
but the day we stopped believing
was the day it rose again.

It didn’t wear a uniform,
no armband, no salute.
It came dressed up in slogans
and a tailored business suit.

It marched in through the courthouse
and it whispered through the news,
it promised law and order
while deciding who to lose.

It wrapped itself in flags and faith,
in “heritage” and “pride,”
and said the ones who questioned it
were traitors from inside.

It pointed at our neighbours
and declared them enemies,
then claimed that only violence
could restore our liberties.

And every time we challenged it,
it shouted “that’s a lie!”
and every time we warned them,
they told us not to try.

But fascism doesn’t vanish
just because the textbooks say;
it mutates in the shadows
and it waits for its new day.

So here’s to those who see it,
who refuse to look away;
who know the fight for freedom
is a battle every day.

And here’s to those who stand up
when the powerful demand
that we silence our dissenting
and obey their every command.

’Cause the day we stop resisting
is the day the truth will bend,
and the day we think it’s over
is the day it starts again.