For a brief time, the bus stopped.
Infection was a roadblock,
profit put on hold while life support took its place.
But this was only temporary,
a handwritten note pasted over that familiar recipe of make more, take more.
Capital needed a vaccine, an intervention, injection,
funnel it out to tax havens like it’s an endangered animal
while everyday savers cut corners,
slice bread thinner, forge dinners from back cupboard extracts.
But forget all that, shop for Britain,
buy us out without the dividends.
Grease the wheels with over-priced coffees,
fill the tank with summerwear,
get this juggernaut up to speed.
Where it’s going, nobody knows,
just onwards without a highway code.
Don’t worry if you can’t take the pace,
there’s a place for you under the bridge.
Take a ladder of your dreams and use the rungs to wedge the cracks,
take the strain, take a fall,
put your backs into it, we thank you all.
