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The Money's No Good
You get out of bed abour half-past sevenYour days are hell so sleeping's heavenUnfold the paper over yesterday's teaGood morning Mr Howard, how do you feel?Another batch of figures says everything's fineBut that's not what they are saying on the dole-form linePocketful of silver like a pocket full of rocksYou stagger down the road to the telephone box"That job's gone" says the person when you ring"You're the thirteenth today" as he drops the thingPostman at the gate just to make you feel betterAnother half a dozen no-job lettersThe debts pile up and your confidence goesAnd everyone in the family knowsThey sympathise because they feel they shouldSeven days a week and the money's no goodSo you wander around the house for hours at a timeYou're looking for a riff and you're looking for a rhymeAnother cup of coffee, no sugar or creamWhile the sun goes down on your Australian dreamThe lady next door's screaming at her kidsBecause the dole didn't come but the landlord didLetras de cancionesYou spend a half a day a week at the C.E.S.You get a flint-eyed stare from behind the deskI haven't got a job and you think it's a sinDon't you read the papers mate, where have you been?"They've shut down the shop and they've stopped our pay"Isn't it time we became annoyed, there are two generations unemployed.
From Letras Mania