No one ever asked me
if I wanted to be shackled, instead of being free
no one ever asked, but decided anyway
to turn and bolt the open doors
tie me to the dusty concrete floors and work me to the bone.

No one said,you’ll never own a home and if you do
we’ll steal it back
and mortgage you instead,
one day we’ll all be dead
‘so what’s the rush?’ is what I said.

Brokers in the token towers endowed with powers beyond our ‘ken’
and if or when they do decide to let the status quo remain
the status quo will automatically, register it as another of the same old krap
it’s something else that they’ll steal back.

I’ve got to tell you, that I’m pig sick
of make it fast and spend it quick and sod the rule of law it never did apply , to the hotshot, potbellied, suited city guy who has his eye on articles one to five and in any case will most definitely survive against the odds by burying away us poor sods in backroom books,stirred slowly into microfilm by corporate crooks who cook away as if each day a different menu was on sale.

Beyond the pale where riders sit and watch the scenes unfold, and it is foretold that judgement day will wash the wicked clean away and save the righteous.
well don’t I just believe all that
another bunch of total krap.
The pious in their pious world could not foresee that greed alone would be the fall of man..and in the fall,where man has done it all and nothing of it done remains
the register clicks on two more games to play
one tonight
and one the day to come
a bonus ball for everyone except Mario because he’s on heroin,you know it,I know it
the moguls in the mighty towers blow coke into their nose and they know it too.

Not a thing I want to do
should I do, would I if I could do,do?

I wonder where it’s written that
we have to go there to get back
and if we go why don’t we stay
one day we’ll all be dead.
A thought as going ,when to bed arrived in and another trial that I survived through
one more dish of microfiche that never swam in any sea
and small as anything you see
or smaller for all that
a status bit of tit
for tat
and let the gnats and hounds of titled lords and ladies give the peasants rampant rabies, who cares but the undertakers undertaker,the sombre funeral formulator?
and I don’t give a damn.


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