I have looked upon the latter
but much prefer the former.
Memo:
take a letter
to my parliamentary candidate stating unequivocally
that this life's not the life for me
and could he see a way to see
a brighter
lighter
future for me.

But my candidate can oft' be seen
at Weatherspoons in
Bethnal Green
supping on a pint of ale
(and then I wonder why I fail)

So it's down to me
to make a future I can see
the storm clouds brewing.

Chewing on a blade of grass
I pass the hat around.
Opportunities abound and I must leap
to keep another date
with some politician on the make.

The doorbell chimes a memory of better times
the postman brings me several letters
one from 'Zetters'
(8 draws on the football pool)
I'm off to celebrate.

The parliamentary candidate can kiss my ****
he's just a fool
and now I'm as rich as Midas
you may find me somewhere by a sea
where I once pinned my dreams upon those flowing streams
just to see if they would float.
but now I'll buy a boat and sail away
this is my day

And as a postscript I must write:
I've never been happy with the man they chose
To represent me behind closed doors
and plan my life.
Now my life is planned atop the ocean's wave
and so I wave goodbye
don't cry
I won't.