Olden days?

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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

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