The title becomes him
a photo on the wallframe distinctly thin
dressed to and made up for that hero face
to be renown and blinded from disgrace
thick ignorance a gift
behind titles and riches
for the poor whose extensions wrap cities right round
The rich whose legacies in the next century are found
The title wealthy man or woman
whose portrait glistens off the wall
for centuries stories false and tall
who exist like tiny gems in a coalpit haul
Unknown survivors who beg and whinge though stunted grow
clinging to superstition excite the boredom of economic woe
Life is their coalpit carbon dusting stains them deep
Injustice sustains clogged arteries of outrage fail to seep
They blind their eyes and ears to the exits and upward stairs
only opening them for idle gossip that self slanders and impairs
In the ritual and unconscious march toward a false retirement
every untested superstitious belief a conviction requirement
The title rich young master in luxury wardrobe
telling half truths of the over ridden poor's road
Offering insights into the nature of the world that finds us
Playing hide and go seek with his own shadows of bias
Both lovely melodies timeless and predictable
covers of overplayed music from artists so typical
Both tracks on repeat just rehearsing the unnecessary
Lines of trajectory like railways to the cemetery
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