On this rough pole, your grip is tight br Your hands are chafed and torn br But if for just an eyeblink, you let go br You will be keeling back, a gravitational pull br br How far you seem to fall.... br The absent landing ground br The barren farm of what is left in store. br br For no-one is secure, the ropes are frayed br The nets are stretched beyond capacity br The passers-by withholding their concern br The money-lenders' period of grace br br The judge brings down his hard robotic fist br Directed by the law and lobbyists br It is time now to go down br br To leave children and spouse behind br No use to beg - do not pretend to mind br You were selfish, after all, in your ascent br And later you will trace their eyes br In ridges of the wall br That is all you have to exercise your mind br br And if they let you rise br If your limbs are ever sprung br You will not be walking out so tall - br The sky will be much higher br Than your senses can recall. br br Should I counsel you with hope? br Would it moderate the pain? Or be clear br About the limits of parole: br Not to borrow, lease or vote br Or enjoy your work again br Once you let go of the pole br For the first and final fall. br br Around your ears, the wind is cold br Drops of rain fall from your locks br Bruises on the fabric br Of your coat and uniform br Fingertips burned raw, by acid waste and ink br br Remember, when they made you lose your grip? br Your family gone, the payments late br No inspiration for escape br More incisive in their strategy br Than you could anticipate - br They planned your ruin br And brought you down with it.