Dancing with Ol’ Dept

I’m signing my autograph in the Post Office every week
In the same line, and it’s not the type of fame that I seek
That money, euro 188, handed across the counter
Not funny, how I hate taking it, while so many flounder
Under the weight of crippling financial debt
Trying to raise a family, while dancing with ol’ death

Yes, dancing with ol’ death in, whatvever shape she comes
No romancing, just enticing our fathers; brothers and our sons
To take their lives, after being stripped of their dignity
Someone wake their wives, before their men step into enternity
Too soon, and for what reason, except they couldn’t pay their bills
Boom is out of season, now austerity, and the grown men it kills

Kills them to talk about it, kills them more if they don’t
Fills the morgue, while politicians talk about what will and won’t
Be cut, because you know ‘we all have to chip in and share’
The burden, a burden that we didn’t create, tell me is that fair?
That the bankers, whom we gesticulate, for wasting our money
And the speculators, I speculate, are getting off scott free

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