He’s a Sunday morning Christian
Always taking his perch
In full public view
In his local church.
He's in a state of bliss
As he sits in his pew
Rejoicing in the fact
He not like me and you.
He's that oxymoron of his faith
A rich man in power
Looking at the common world
From his ivory tower.
He's the Minister of Things
Who really sees no wrong
Being in a companies pay
To help their business along.
He's only here in church
For a bland public face
If he had his way
He’d redevelop the place.
Luxury apartments for the wealthy
Servants quarters at the rear
Its a sad fact of life you have
To keep a few peasants near
To perform those menial tasks
Essential for the material health
Of those essential to the guarding
Of the Nation’s growing wealth.
The last hymn has barely finished
Before he’s heading for the door
Thankful its finally over for
He couldn't have stood any more
He shakes hands with the priest, wearing
The most humble smile he’s got
Just in case the right wing press
Need a new publicity shot.
Roll on Monday morning
For the start of something pleasant
More tax concessions for the rich
And benefit cuts for the peasant.
