Saturday, 17 August 2013

Hoarding Treasure

Hoarding treasure, buying leisure
Standing at the end of the world
Tear stained eyes gazing, thoughts of lazing
Feel the downward spiral

I see your problems but I think it’s all right
We have to pull together to make sure everything’s fine
You seem to understand that is how this world works
In it’s last dying moments, the last sporadic jerks…

Mourning widow, broken window
Grey skies and pouring rain
Swollen fingers, the hurt that lingers
Feel the pain of broken hearts

Through the smoking haze of the meadow burning
I feel the breeze so cool teasing my sweaty brow
And the invisible green river slides unseen
As the herder curses the furrowing plough

Each step forward, gives rise to two steps back
We break a nail with every clod we grab and break
And for every dollar handed to the unclean beggar on the street
They take a dollar fifty from the poor and two dollars from the meek

Hoarding treasure, buying pleasure
Smile blandly at the turning world
Empty premise, broken promise
Can’t you see democracy is a joke?