Poverty, stretching like a cloak,
covering light and love and hope.
Leaving tears within it's wake,
Not e'en a penny left to take.

But you with eyes that never see,
still never been as poor as me.
Have never known the Council knock,
or life enclosed within it's block.

Nor seen the houses black with grime
and known the blackest will be mine.
Or watched the fading mother's trust,
as it crumbles slowly into dust.

Still to the shaft I take the cage,
another day in silent rage.
Trod weary all my life long day
until the dreams have flown away.

So you with eyes that never see,
in sweet oblivion passing me,
shed not a tear, for nor will I,
until the time I come to die.

Then on the treadmill risen high,
into the clear untroubled sky.
You'll ask forgiveness of your time
as I have always done with mine.

And in my refuge, safe, sublime,
I'll curse that dread and wretched mine.
Wishing I had learned to soar
in a world that owed me so much more.