Expenditures On Loan Never Paid Poem by Mark Heathcote

Wearing threadbare grabs as a suit of armour
Pick up your heavy placard arms
Wave your little scarlet clenched fists
You are not starving alone in this city of s***s.

Come on beggars in your little penal towns
Tear their little palaces down
Turn around your upside-down clown-
Face the right way round.

Don't skulk in the pouring rain
In the gutters like a fallen bird of prey
Because it's not your day,
Stand up and have your say.

Take a stand, throw that first stone
Coz they've already done it to you
From behind their overpriced thrown
Expenditures on loan never paid.

Its, okay but not for you, don't believe me
It's all true, sit there alone and play-on
Play your little lost boy blues
And see what they'll do for you

From their towering echelons
They'll print their lies far away from you
In the news, you'll sleep-on wear under your clothes
Close to your cold dying bones.

Come on beggars in your little penal towns
Tear their little palaces down
Turn around your upside-down clown-
Face the right way round.

Aren't we all meant to be butterflies?
Oh homeless the poor garland stand together
Like men and draw the line of fellowship again
Remind them we are all men and throw the first stone.