These are the days where you’d sell your own mother to get by
Austerity a cancer that causes us to die
Everyone working for themselves
Just to afford to buy cigarettes and alcohol from shop shelves
We have no time for those who lose life’s game
They are nameless and die in pain
For being poor is a disability in it self
Wealth is freedom and stealth
To hide your bank accounts in tax havens
You found your heaven
Look away all you gamblers who bank on a chain of lucky sevens
You’ll be ruined like cheques in the rain
We are lost, we cannot change
For we are all fighting for small change
and you don’t have a twenty pence to your name…