Economics
Homes that aren't homes,
Gutted tortoise shells now.
As a lone old man looks on with gnarled, knotted brow.
Factories silent,
No cars on the road,
Bar a single ford escort, starting to corrode.
It isn't our bad luck, nor caused by our faults
We watch - just watch, as the numbers waltz.
A whirlwind of dead leaves
Careers down the street,
Picking up fag-ends and wrappers from sweets,
And the relics of the land,
That we saved in our wars,
Are mere litter, and wondering what it was all for.
And as fate grimly spins her wheel,
Watch - just watch, as the numbers reel.
We can still wait for waiting,
And look up to the sky
We can still hope for hope, or still hope to die.
We can pray to the gods,
Who, in suits and on screens,
Command dancing numbers, which dance on our dreams.
And we can only sit, in a deathly trance,
And watch - just watch, as the numbers dance.