fauxcroft

We accept your

Dirty conscience money,

It keeps us quiet

And out keeps us all servile,

It anaesthetise’s us

Against reality,

It keeps us in line,

Keeps production going

Keeps their wealth flowing,

Leaves us tired

Leaves us stressed,

So there’s no time

For anything else,

We are grateful

For crumbs that fall,

From the tables

Of the rich above is all,

We don’t question

We just go to work,

Don’t hit targets

They say you shirk,

Push you every single day

Motive being a pittance of pay,

Slave to the system

Slave to work,

They see themselves as elite

And they treat us like dirt,

So conditioned to this

We don’t understand the hurt,

They say having a jobs s perk

Manking money for the rich,

They get the best of everything

Our pound of flesh we give,

Just trying to survive

Just striving to live.