Faces

 

Faces, fucking faces

Everywhere you look

It’s smug fucking faces

Faces full of jumped up airs and graces

With true intent

Sometimes flashing through in traces

Faces I’d gladly be looking at

Down the barrel

From twenty fucking paces

Faces that think that every fucker else

Should be kept in their little places

Unfeasibly fat faces

Gorged on the spoils of their fortune chases

Faces that don’t give a fuck

Which heartache your heart currently embraces

As long as you fill your little spaces

And keep the flow of cream

Into those bloated fucking faces

Faces that get to live

While your lives are stuck in stasis

Running round in your little mazes

Eat, sleep, work and die

When told

And on an ongoing fucking basis

Faces held accountable

In a diminishing number of cases

That claim they beat you fair and square

When first

They cut your laces

Faces that tell you they feel your thirst

As they swim in a private oasis

Yeah, those are the Faces

The faces with all the airs and graces

The ones who fucked off to the Caymans

With arms full of cash-stuffed cases

While you and I looked into hungry eyes

In despairing, haunted faces

…..

Billy 30/8/20