Sick of you shiny politicians
Babbling your bullshit
Your wrinkled stammers,
I d-dont n...no you mis...misunderstand I..No, it....It's..not..
Crackled grey radio voices and
I duck my head under the water so the soap fills up my ears and
I can't hear what any of you are saying anymore and
The news reporter's cotton-bud voice accuses you of being unfair...
"Well no, the tax is lower for everyone!"
"But clearly it isn't lower, as it has increased by-"
Figures and numbers crackle outside my door in a different world
I don't have to think about it
The soap bubbles amiably lovely and fresh and
my fingers look like dry pickles under the white skin of the water and
Why do greasy little undeveloped baby thoughts always drip from my bath taps in tiny squeaks?