The wind blows whispers down the street, Having free reign with the town so bleak - Like everything else it's - all gone away. The town hall clock gives forth it's chime, For no-one there to ask the time - Like everything else they've - all gone away.
The grocer's shop hangs up it's sign The sign say's closed it's a sign of the times - Like everything else they've - all gone away.
But somewhere the party never ends And greedy hands rub together again - Shipping out the profits that they've stolen
An eerie wail comes from the pit, The ghosts of the men take the morning shift - Just like clockwork - rusting away.
Come take a walk upon these hills And see how monetarism kills - Whole communities - Even families - There's nothing left so - they've all gone away.
Printer Friendly Version
