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Opportunity’s Whore

You couldn’t tell the truth
To save your life
I’d replace your tooth
With a bunch of fives

You’re happy for the weak
To shiver in the cold
You guide us up the creek
As your walls
Quiver with gold

I’d sever trade
With your dealers’ arms
Lay them in the bed they made
To keep the world from harm

Shake the Magic Money Tree
Where I’d hang your plums
Leave the Trident to Poseidon
Strip the plastic from your chums

She whispers you her warnings
Behind your closed door
While you are busy spawning
Her temperature soars

Obscurity a certainty
For opportunity’s whore
Babbling absurdities
Clutching the last straw
Zip it for eternity
Crushed by public law

Left dangling with your tiny flags
A rotten sack of spuds
Dressed by the printed rags
And toffee-nosed clubs
Above the failed garden bridge
Too far up to run and hide
No sanctuary in the nearest fridge
Full trough to dine on pride

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