THE SKULLS
The crying, the dying
Dusk despair sighing
The soul-shattered shards of
Why bother trying?
People remade as political rubble
Trust becomes rust, hope becomes trouble
And everywhere, every square
Always the lying
Bluster and bureaucrat, always denying
The scabrous blood steel of political blades
Cut deep as integrity blushes and fades
Division, incision, secession, derision
Me versus you on a mind bruise collision
While the cackling superiors, in comfort, recline
Watch us for sport, sip a rare wine
Knowing we’ll never unfix, unrig
The game of the graves for ourselves that we dig
Once we had eyes, once we could see
But we fell for the swindle of you against me
So addictive, so toxic, gets into the blood
The cacklers love peasants to wrestle in mud
While they pore over gold that never gets old
Laugh at the rights that we so cheaply sold
First was the plague, then war, then the news
Of living costs rising, unpayable dues
Of fuel bills that climb like a just released hawk
Food banks all famished, phone-in show talk
Of poverty, hardship, shadows and speeches
By political puppets and other dark leeches
Knowing we’ll vote for whichever one preaches
The prettiest tinsel with “Not our fault!” screeches
Work more, work longer, work always then reach
For the tribal IDs they were happy to teach
Stare into the night, embrace the despair
Wonder what happened to sharing and care
Answers? We had them but gave them away
For the promise of fools, the faith in a day
When we’d win a place in the palace of winners
Comfort and warmth, too bad for the sinners
And on the world spins, on fire, on course
For the sickening reckoning, farce become force
Then watch, dreams dead, at the screens all obscene
Full of skulls of our love and what could have been