Olden days?
The purpose of living is to service the riches Pay taxes, insurance money to the witches Who spellbound remind us they are in charge. Reliance in nothing except in the wallets Of the privileged, establishment driven by cash. We cannot step off Just walk away We are hungry, have children Many bills to pay With one hand we are paid In sums worthless to most Then dutifully we pay back The lords who have gold. Live for the moment Die when you're old Scrimping and saving A soulless cheapened bowl Stale bread to live on Mould on our walls The wealthy established will laugh and they'll scoff. Us as subservient will bow and we'll doff Caps that are thread-bare Clothed in rough sacks. Servicing debt A rod for our backs. AGL