Broken, bending, callous forming,
Fingers raw from scrubbing harder,
Another toil with day dawning
For the pittance from the master
Faceless who courts disaster.
In turn hounded and made to brave,
The trappings of indentured slaves.
We sold our souls, a brass penny,
Nurtured in capital’s iron grip,
Our labour forced, no solidarity,
Workers spirit bound to the hip,
Thatcher’s legacy turns all to shit.
In turn hounded and made to brave,
The trappings of indentured slaves.
Languish, neo liberal hell,
With profits more important now.
Society just an empty shell,
Performing work, a circus clown,
Feasted on like a fatted cow.
In turn hounded and made to brave,
The trappings of indentured slaves.