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In Britain, in Britain
The clock it is ticking
As people tend flowers
Or Q’s last for hours
And blood pumps and pounds
All in vain, 
Our time is misleading us,
The chase is deceiving us,
How! Does it all sit in the frame?
Do we need so to scurry.
So make mundane things our worry so,
Questing for labour in vain,
And it’s how are we looking,
Is my tie on just crooked,
As the funeral rolls on in grey rain
As cold as ice water falls,
Expressions are whey or palled
Train wheels click incisively,
Paths taken divisively, and the TV shows repeat again.
Doors open or shut
At your mansion or hut
The place you’ll most likely be,
A safe bet for equity,
A capital certainty..?
"Just as long as you’re in on the game"
You won’t be a square,
You’ll be all set up there
With a letterbox under your name
That’s where it will all descend,
Offers of money lends
Tax and utility bills without end

© Joe Maverick 01-09-2010

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