when she waited for her wages

yet they failed to come

and she smiled down on her children

sleeping safe and warm

 

—were they monetised yet?

—converted strictly to cash

—were they dropped off in the pawn?

—possessions of an ugly kind of love

 

did the Gods see her coming

did her work take her soul

and did she give of her off-spring

to take home Faustian gold?

 

no, no, no, it wasn’t like that

she was never, never, in control

all she had was stale bannocks

and some mouse-sized cheese

 

—were they hungry yet?

—were the crops doomed to fail?

—feeding innocent mouths on thimbles of brine

—clocks tick and yet nature doesn’t tell the time

 

as a hundred massive airships filled the skies

hoped against hope, hope would tumble down

not some black-snow sorrow yet unseen

but quiet nutritious love that might sustain

 

—when will we see home again

—her children wake and wonder

—when will we see home again?

—her children wait and question everyday

 

when grown, they bury her in sand and clay

but don’t see home again

no, no, no, it is how it is,

just don’t see home again

 

a mirage in their minds arises very near

yet remains so very very far away

the guards won’t let them pass, the fences reach so high

it’s here they’ll stay and here they’re sure to die

 

clocks tick          yet nature does not tell the time

clocks tick          yet nature does not tell the time.