Who Works The Weather?

Honey Dear, if the sun is in your eyes,
I’ll steal the shade to keep the staple things in life ‑
There are many up here who think its over,
Choking on their beer as it instigates tears: low and Be-Holed.

Honey Dear, when the country’s undermined,
There’s a moral duty to smash the steel behind that complacent smile…
Well, staring into your beer won’t make the weather clear – no no no !

Honey Dear, what’s to be done, it can be done!
I’d gladly sell your begging bowl
To put a brick in the mouth that grates on and on.

Honey Dear, take the sticks and stones with the froth and the foam ‑
Cornered beasts would do anything to keep control and everything they own.
There are many down here rolling in clover –
Skimming the cream off the Monetarist Dream and auctioning off the left-overs.

Honey Dear, we will get what we deserve:
Slaughtered daughters, castrated sons if we haven’t the nerve to pull a fast one, for
Honey Dear, there’s an Achilles Heel to the strong:
It’s called insolence, pride and arrogance,
And a crass belief that “We is never, never wrong.”

Where are the many thinking it over?
Stepping up a gear out of the Bondage of Fear?
Brollies to the fore, girls!
I can’t hear the thunder but I can feel the rain,
So do we just talk about the weather, merely hope it gets better?
No, no no!

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