The Haves Have Naught

Just look at that shopkeeper peddling his wares

Shouting his sales pitch, but nobody cares

Don't you wonder what keeps him there, day after day?

Begging for gold as his hair turns to gray

Blindly they're bounding apace

Starving for mercy in a merciless place

Only a fool would make martyrs from heathens

And find them so lively when they're barely breathing

Just barely breathing

Just look at that toymaker grinding his gears

Turning no profit but he doesn't care

He keep smiles on faces day after day

The children keep sadness and suffering at bay

Blissfully bounding apace

Searching for mercy in a merciless place

Only a monster makes fodder from saints

And finds them so worthless when they're full of grace

So full of grace

But what better use of hookers and thieves

Then greasing the wheels of perfect machines

That hum into life a harmony of industry?

But what is the use of cutting them down

To smother and choke the soul of our town?

I know there is another way

But, what is so wrong with giving them purpose?

(Just how could you weed them out?)

(Degrading them without doubt)

A man like yourself could give to the worthless

(You're bleeding them dry)

(They live and die like you and I)

Without the guidance of rulers and tyrants

(And under your guidance; the hands of a tyrant)

These people will just tear themselves apart

Just look at that charlatan steeped in deceit

A threat to the young

To the old and the meek

Don't you wander what made him

So vicious, so sick?

So far out of balance?

So cruel and so callous?

So married to malice?