THE CHANCELLOR

Just like other Budget days, the pantomime begins
The chancellor’s red briefcase hides such misery within
He holds it up and bears a smile that’s dead behind the eyes
He knows the numbers represent real people with real lives
But also knows that that’s the job — the subtle sleight of hand
To give away enough that most don’t recognise the scam
Take from the poor to feed the rich tax breaks and incentives
Praised by the press, the same each year: his theft is inventive
So deft is he at selling us a path to poverty
That few will stop to question austerity’s validity
The same old Trickle Down approach that didn’t work before
The same old welfare for the rich whilst stealing from the poor
The same old pull your socks up and freeloaders can fuck off
While subsidizing industries and covering corporate loss
And what’s another cut to those who just refuse to work?
Another pound or ten reduced — it isn’t gonna hurt
Think of where that money could be much better applied
So what if it increases disabled suicides
It may have been the income on which they may have once survived
But business has demands and those demands must be supplied
So watch as once again we raid upon the public purse
When things are already this bad we barely notice when they’re worse
Darwin economics it’s survival of the fittest
And poverty will kill you when you’re governed by the richest

And I don’t know
What we’re doing here
I don’t know
When civilisation disappeared
I don’t know
What we’re doing here

The chancellor does sleep at night next door to number ten
Tucked far away from consequence he brought on by his pen
His wrought iron gates are guarded by the cops he underpaid
His head upon the pillow he rests tired from the day
He doesn’t hear the sound of those who have got nothing left to eat
Of pensioners freezing to death who can’t afford their heat
Of unemployed begging for work as bosses count their profits
Of those relying on welfare being told that they’re now off it
He doesn’t hear the screams of those denied more social housing
And if he did the dirty sod would likely find the screams arousing
Instead he dreams of mansions and the parties he attends
The lobbyists who tell him to increase their dividends
The luxury and opulence to which he’s grown accustomed
The Masters of the Universe who groomed him and who trust him
To show the population what’s best for them is best for business
Convince the citizens there is no other way to fix this
The experts all agree that we all have to make these savings
At least the experts we’ve employed; the ones that we are paying
He doesn’t have to listen to the sobs of a statistic
Just the price of doing business in a world so capitalistic

And I don’t know
What we’re doing here
I don’t know
When civilisation disappeared
I don’t know
What we’re doing here

The media delights in the chancellor’s deceptions
Headline grabbing sound-bites getting all of their attention
Even while acknowledging that they are being played
It’s like they cannot help themselves from joining the charade
Repeating propaganda on every TV station
Willingly participants in our manipulation
Ideology being passed off as consensus
With no alternative proposed the spin is just relentless
Economic forecast reported as if its fact
On eggshells as to how the global markets may react
Disavowing culpability for what’s ancestral
Lives are being ruined while they cite the cost of petrol
A penny off a pint of beer; the chancellor’s a hero
“Thou shalt opiate the proles”: the chancellor’s solemn credo
Schools and hospitals won’t have the funds to serve our needs
And they shut down all the libraries cuz it doesn’t pay to read
And they lowered all the wages and they carved away the pensions
But none of this is will linger in the public conversation
Because we’d rather blame the Budget on the poor or immigration
Than acknowledge that the Chancellor embezzled the whole nation

And I don’t know
What we’re doing here
I don’t know
When civilisation disappeared
I don’t know
What we’re doing here