Cold and grey now grows the sun
On a city morning, just begun
Teeming millions walk and run on the spot
And all that’s lost and won
Can be counted in a second, and might
Under that indifferent light.

Metal fingers moon stretched strive
While Balcony emperors yawn and thrive
And do their best to hedonize
By collecting things that they despise
Golden trinkets and toys that sing
but only sorrow do their riches bring.

The asphalt tears in the searing heat
Of the rat-race morning’s busy feet.
When frenzy dawns upon the street,
Flocks of confusion run to meet
With bitter fates and tired grace
Lines of weakness in every face.

Mary lives under a bridge by the river
In a semi-detached cardboard space
And deep into the dark night as she shivers
Her thoughts turn to her imminent fate,
To retire – get up somewhere higher
On the property ladder
And the food chain
Get up where it’s drier –
To be ready when the flood comes in.

Sam Jones runs a café on Castle Street
And he wakes up every day at five to eight
And he rubs his hands together to keep in the heat
And him and his wife, well they just can’t wait
To retire – get up somewhere higher
On the property ladder
And the food chain
Get up where it’s drier –
To be ready when the flood comes in.

Sarah Green cleans the station every morning
And evening, with a battered plastic broom.
And yawning she dreams of the moment
That cannot come too soon,
To retire – get up somewhere higher
On the property ladder
And the food chain
Get up where it’s drier –
To be ready when the flood comes in.

Mr Smith lives in a tower of polished glass
That rings with the sound of a thousand telephones
But he is only flesh and bone.
And his dream is not his own -
To retire – get up somewhere higher
On the property ladder
And the food chain
Get up where it’s drier –
To be ready when the flood comes in.

As the shining towers come tumbling down
People come and gather around
They gasp and applaud with a crashing sound
As their labours are glimpsed, lost, and unwound
Like broken clocks that are tossed away
Onto the hard unfeeling clay.

And juggernauts howl on worn out paths
Carry absurd loads of diamond and glass
To society ladies glowing and vast
While starving millions wander past.
Some see themselves in coins they’ve begged
And others in a mirror that hangs by their bed.

Grey metal flesh and brittle bones
Sprout in twisted urban zones
Steel roots tearing through stone
Glass boughs reaching unknown
Heights, and when the worst is confirmed
The city will fall by its own bastard worm.