Spare Filth

 

Take the pennies from his eyes

And put them in the tin

Your alms won’t cure

Or countermand accountability

It’ll pay for a minute

Of a machine

Dressed up as care

But only if you have

The right amount to spare

 

Take a month off and dig

A child sized grave

For just two pound

Then shove her into

That inexorable hole

A reward for state

She’s obliged to declare

A debt that feeds the purses

Of fortune most unfair

 

Take the piss

Tell us society doesn’t exist

Show us gold-paved streets

Sluiced of homeless memories

Rid your fantasy of the unsightly

Endorse under-paid work

And goods too costly to bear

Sanction addictions as necessities

Call it our fair share

 

Take the opportunity

Filch until you’re filthy

Dream of stately homes

And what you’ll do

When you are wealthy

Settle all old scores

But don’t be left with any doubt

For everything that you will own

Someone else must go without