Silence is Golden
©2006 Gibbens/Weston

Silence is golden but not for the silenced
Who cry in the vacuum of government violence.
You can’t hear a sound for the thunder of shells
But down in the valley they’re ringing the bells.
War, plague and poverty all laid to rest
By shining armies of enlightened self-interest.
Well, who am I to talk? Pour me some wine.
You in your small corner and I in mine.
Say, brother, can you spare a thought?

Patience won’t wear as thin as they are now.
A tin can of rice and the bones of a cow
Is not much to go on and fill up your kids
While flies for eyelashes crawl on their lids.
Upmarket items and downmarket goods.
I heard on the news about those floods.
Well, who am I to talk? Put on the kettle.
Perhaps when the rain falls the dust will have setlled.
Say, brother, can you spare a quid?

Commerce is godly now, oddly enough,
And in the name of peace rich men get tough.
You can’t hear a sound for the sound of the tills
Nor feel the hunger that picks up our bills.
Consumer durables, thingumybobs,
Scarcely endurable wage-slaving jobs.
Well, who am I to talk? I ain’t got nothing
But hope on the day that the man push the button,
The button will refuse to work.

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