The hopes and fears
Of all the years
Were met in Greece tonight
The bankers cheers
And blood crept down the wall
A people poised
The choices posed
Not even Solomon could call
Under the orb of a constant eye
That counts in coins alone
The ancient cradle of polls and votes
Was backed into corners by suited louts
Spotlight of world rights
Erased its autonomy
Off with its head –
Give it a frontal lobotomy
The queen of hearts could not have been as cruel
Please may I have some more – Achtung give it gruel
And blood seeped through the ancient stones
As booted bankers stepped over bones
Cracking and crunching the feeble sticks.
And cheering acolytes called them by name
Praised their virtue, passed on the blame
To a faceless race where bewilderment ticks
What match is flesh for filthy lucre
What match is right for coins and notes
What match is humanity for the pounds, shillings and pence
Of a world that is not right in the head
Of a world that denies the existence of the heart
Of a world that throws other peoples’ children to the wolves
-Always other peoples until your time is come-
All In the name of filthy lucre.
And we cheering the passing of right
Turn a cheek
A blind eye
Cos we’re next to take it up the bum.
Just wait, our time will come.
And who will call our name?
01 July 2015