The dance continues
Even though the musicians haven’t been paid for weeks.
I believe there’s something special in our fear,
That we do not know where it leads.
Our stupidity makes us reckless.
There’s a love of strange rhythms,
Even though the music’s stopped.
And no-one knows
Where it will end.
The slight feeling of discontent
Is nothing to what we felt before
When whole streets lost their jobs
At an instant, because Margaret said,
They had no market for their wares.
Well, see this, Dear Market,
How well you cope with wares to sell
More pricey than anyone could want
And nobody stupid enough to buy today.
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