Harsh words for the clueless, the useless find a pair of new hands
A dare of broken bands, folk can dance harder if the tune soon meanders
From the tear to the grimace, the crevice opens and shuts
Like a wise one in doubt about the slaves and the sluts
If you believe in such trivia, your answers are all correct
The passive behind the mask doesn’t want U to detect
His lizards in his shoes, the marks of abuse
The stark truth shows no proof that wobbles a pensioner’s tooth
Worried age from the listeners reluctant ear
Another redundant year gone by the eyes wasted on thoughts inhumane
In true pain flew the flaws from the raw creative urge
I don’t believe I have credit to use a smile on a splurge
Like a high street buyer, I meet a liar once a week
Once weak, the speakers chair is vacated via leak
Did you hear that rumour that the PM learnt his lines?
He took a flip around the bar and made some rude signs
Fuck this country, this livelihood that won’t exist
And if I could just follow suit, to the root I wouldn’t resist
Not at all if allowed, but not too loud the bombs fall
Not enough to hear the blunt sword make its late call
Another fatal stall of the heart, no restart for motivation
No peace march to mention, to revitalise a suspended nation
Tough thoughts for the soft offers, filled coffers won’t ever spill
And no floor could accommodate those in desperate need of a will
Written off the cuff, I guess I’ll call my bluff
Check she got home through the keyholes robbed from Rome
Not much of dome to house a lingering brain
While the hands work to fight the inner animal fingering again
Binging with coke on the sofas patched with a regrets footprint
To look and then sprint through the futures opportunistic track
Fortunate slack cut from unemployment’s latest sack
Dropped heavily through the snow, where now will we go?
Still on vibrate but no missed messages for hopeful fools
The bread cools when its split, the head drools when lit
The latest flame is your new name on lucky fame
Found in a bin, discarded on cursed decision tamed
Luscious undergrowth in the flings from a child singing for food
I couldn’t be sadder if my dad became a dude
On a whim comes the sympathetic grin, spinning on a high
Trimming through the sky to find a goldmine before I die
For though I try, I cry on a basis as regular as I lie
And I’m condemned to the grave before I gave the reasons why