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Friday, 4 August 2023

None Of This Was Yours To Sell

Money funnels are a curse

Take your hands out of that purse

You stole a future, hid it well

That none of this was yours to sell


The only trickle-down to date

Is piss from broken cisterns, mate

You took our stuff for a quick quid

Which was not yours, but don’t tell Sid


Recite these words into a mirror:

Jesus Christ loves every sinner

But let’s be frank. Don’t you remember

What He did to money-lenders?


Well, clearly not. You stole the Bible

You auctioned the manger in the stable

You spend your time inventing needles

With loopholes big enough to wheedle


Money comes, and money goes,

Today’s allies, tomorrow’s foes,

The dance of nonsense sputters on

Your feet are caught, your time is done


Take your hands out of my pocket

Your rhetoric is foul and rotted

You sold us out. You sold us off.

But Karma – justice – is powerful stuff.





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