I dust the tyre tracks
That mark the fabric of my clothes
From gold plated jackals on the move
Who shackle those of mind and spirit they oppose
Driving hard to no where
To inflict untruths upon the innocent
My body heals the cuts
My mind somehow insane
I feel no pain
The private lives of the contemptible
Huddled over law books and the Bible for individual gain
The only sound of human life
Wind flowing when their rear complains
What’s this. A drunken sleeping corpse
Empty head but breath remains
The flies buzz round his dirty face
Like satellites
Round and round again
Another human soul from your infirmary of evil
Seeking solace from your rule
With your cheapest bottled fuel
Now lawyers die and politics crumble
Anarchy rules and your wretched lives stumble
You come to me with wide eyes and a soft uncalloused hand
Outstretched
To the working man
The one whose body hardened by the shovel
Somehow holds redemption for your trouble
I’m not your saviour
I’m just a man who asked no favor
The flash of fire upon the city sky
You scream My Lord we’re surely going to die
I agree with you
Let’s sit and marvel at the view
I danced with death that knowledge once or twice
Now you too also have that chance
Rejoice it has arrived
How does it feel
You rulers of nothing
You faithless, flabby, worthless boring soles
Devoid of tender hearts and simple mercy
You deceivers and contrivers and you precious little treasures
Whose vile contempt for the kindness of humanity
Kept your golden castles shiny
Now you tear and scratch each others’ eyes
To take safe harbour from your brother
But there is no escape
You masters of great power
That battle now with others of your kind with no compassion
Like clawless, toothless, mangy cats
On the roofs of this burning, worthless city
Your fight is neither gallant nor courageous
In your moment now of truth you sicken me
I have no pity
The children dance in make believe
An innocence you can’t conceive
No fear upon their faces
This tragic world of yours
Their childhood dream replaces
Now as this swindle that you made of life comes to an end
I sing the songs you don’t commend
And warm the brandy in my cup
Against the fire
Time is up
Author: John Williams
