Dancing to the Devil’s Beat

The baker told the blind man
I've been watching you for weeks
Smiling when you cross the road
The blind man to his credit

Was both generous and kind
He never heard the bomb explode
They found his wounded wallet
Hanging from the banker's sign

His white stick was a crumpled mess
Remains of him were vaporised
Apart from one big fist
The banker never did confess

He sailed into the sunrise
With a crew of lady boys
Howling like a dog on heat

Money is the root of evil
Join him on the deck
Dancing to the devil's beat

The Minister for Pleasure
With a flick of his own wrist
Tossed a story to the waiting press
In truth we are determined

He said through gritted teeth
Government is handing the mess
The press reported little
There was little to report

Sickness spreading through the ranks
Disease was not contagious
It paralysed the tongue
The banker spat at them with thanks

The blind man showed remorse
With his bent and twisted stick
Wading in the blood around his feet

The Minister for Pleasure
Was first up on the floor
Dancing to the devil's beat

A lean and hungry colleague
Asked me just the other day
'Who are you to criticize excess ?'
I told him to his face

He was hiding in a bubble
Living out the dream of his success
Without his old white stick
He was walking the plank

Pirates to his left and right
While his heavy burden
Had been lifted for a while
His pot of gold was out of sight

No one gives him space
In these twisted tangled times
Contempt they say is bitter sweet
You will always find him
Seething in the shadows
Dancing to the devil's beat