'Quotidian Midden' (M.P.Bridger)
The moon's an iceblink in the soul
To minds that languish on the dole,
Whose ignorance my freedom stole
So God forgive these sheep.
Time slides round the nodding clock
Expenses claims stand in the dock
While Eurocrats are taking stock
And carving up the pie.
In streets the fool is left for dead
Who ventured out to buy the bread
For brats she wished she'd never fed
To grow up to be sly.
And stressful slaves go out to work
As able bodies from it shirk
Yet use a crutch to hide their smirk
While eating up the state.
Poor commonsense still bears the scars
For cops no longer leave their cars
And no more smoking in the bars
Has sealed our child-like fate.
As taxes go on worthless hordes
Or paying for consulting boards
And lazy slobs not cleaning wards
Give excuses instead.
So shut your mouth lest you offend,
Their cotton wool you must not rend
Yet banks still strive to keenly lend
Though you are in the red.
Degeneration's now the norm
For those not knowing that they're born,
The Devil take the future spawn
Who'll bathe amongst the lies.
Now discipline is soundly dead
And self-respect has wet the bed;
Normality shot through the head
While rule books drown the cries.
The moon's an iceblink in the soul,
Mendacity has greased the pole,
Oh depurate their fickle goal
Or slay the gimcrack sheep.
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