Priests Determining the will Of their god Deciding Which lives will be sacrificed To keep it from failing And flailing its limbs in a frenzy That will crash and smash The mighty of the land So the weak are thrown To its lack of mercy To spend their blood At the will of the priests Known as Economists
What’s behind the story What is the reason for that news Who gets the benefit, the prize The envelope with the bread The law successfully passed The company tracked greased Somebody’s life made easier At the cost of somebody else
Cables tie us Hold us tight To one spot Even invisible ones Chains Keeping us busy Keeping us attentive Keeping us productive and consuming So when they are cut We are lost Unable to produce As we once did
The world in a book For my son To show him the places Across the seas That he dreams of. The colours, The creatures, The cultures and the clashes. The world in a book in his hands As one day The world will be in his hands.
Background contempt Background fear Background doubt Background shame It’s there Undetected Subtle In the everyday babble Insidious Designed To keep us down So Find the right song To drown it out And live A better Life
With his faithful tartan cap, its bobble flicking black dust into the air. Holding in that tousled and already greying hair. With half hundred weight of coal to deliver down the street. With his smiling green lorry, tiny windows at his feet. Walking up the narrow path, a smile upon his face. Care worn lines deep with dust, crisscrossed like living lace. Bringing warmth to many homes and our own.
Now the coal has gone but the lines remain beneath silver hair. Hands hard and black with oil and years of toil and loyal care. Has no wealth and all wealth one could want within his soft brick walls. Always ready to respond to our lost and stranded calls. Tall as a tree and as strong against every withering storm. A mere spanner in his hands his wonders to perform. Humble, with every reason to be mighty proud. With pride these words should be read to all aloud.