There's a core of people in this town
Who do the work
A grope for dope or cruise for booze
It pins you to the grindstone
But you don't fall down
The abyss of reality
She's sane, got brain
She walks the path that goes down the hole
Pounds the hours round and round
Work - the circle
that makes you sweat
Good times round the corner?
No beginning no end
The shit flies but she can cope
Men get scared don't kinow the type
That shrugs it off but takes no more
Tough but tasty, she pulls her own strings
Meanwhile the beautiful people, puppet master's pets
Having shown concern, drive back to the ivory tower
She goes round
But in a corner of some forgotten book, her love lies waiting
(5MK 1981)
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