Babs

Men, the colour of death, ask us can we cope, or if they can help, believe in our presence, throw away the rope, their eyes in the distance, what are you doing next, they ask, the dopes, hand us our cheques, do they regard us as zero, our pay’s just a joke, while they act like heroes, my ticket’s for the deck, carry me away by boat, they say what the heck, think we don’t know, looks like tombtones, on trains rooms and'planes, gives them some hope ?