22 April 2012
All through Sunday night We expel our might To be drawn and commuting Into a Monday dawnscape
The trial we accept Put down to us by the rich, lobbying lads club It makes us flutter a little With spurious anger
Dancing to the tune Of monetarised slavery We run our fingers across a book And wonder
Lifting ourselves from the drab day Monday again A time to reflect upon, the Changes we must make.
Monday • Opuss № I