Dan Tindall: Listen/Download

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The last time that I came here
I'm sure I lost my head
And now the empty coffee-stands
Have filled my mind instead

Policemen paid by bankers
Put stickers on my shoes
Whilst ladies from the distillery
Ply young and old with booze

- What sort of madness can this be?
They cry as they are drowned
- It's the madness of the upper hand
And all the folks left underground

Beyond the broken steeple
I see a broken light
Burning brightly through the day
But switched off through the night

For the company electric
Has sold its soul to gain
An extra euro from the poor
And a dollars worth of pain

- Ah this is not our fault (they say)
But the principle is sound
A subsidy for the bourgeoisie
From all the folks left underground

Down beside the harbour
On a broken promenade
Parked beneath the shadow
Of a dried out escalade

Two happy singing cowboys
Drinking coke and ethanol
Offer lifts and worthless gifts
To all the passing Russian dolls

(who say) - Bring us something we can eat
From a restaurant renowned
For serving only broken glass
To all the folks left underground

The banks are closed forever
Except on Christmas Day
When outside gather broken hearts
To give themselves away

And meanwhile on the river
Are the refugees who claim
That only they know everything
But they are not to blame

And as I turn and walk away
From the horror I have found
I hear the screaming of the dead
And all the folks left underground