Off the coral cay

Off the cays

We got no life,
what! no life?
we got
no life at all.

We’re rollin’ zoots for the suits
and the suits suit themselves.

Half-starved and yet we’re dragging our feet
almost as if we’ve got meat on our bones,
but bones is what we have come too,

I’ve seen you out there
with the
dead eyes and
lacklustre hair,
where
are those commercials now?

Sunday and to die a bit
we try a bit
of prayer,
I’ve also seen you there
head bowed
but
I thought you were drunk.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.