I see the big business people on the run ,to bank vaults where people like me seldom come .
The top of the town are taken care of there, and from my point of view,its not very fair.
Working for peanuts like a monkey would do .
They look down on me but they donít have a clue .
Like a beggar at the door with a tin cup .
They hear me knocking but they wonít open up .
They donít think of me when my backs to the wall , I ask for some help and they ask me to crawl .
They say youíve got no business coming round here , leave , youíre not welcome , do we make ourselves clear .
So I make my way unseen through life until , the big business people are handed the bill .
Then no credit will there be for those who hide ,their money in boxes on a vault inside ,
those banks with lost keys buried under the ground .
So theyíll shout and scream but I wonít hear a sound ,
because Iíve no business around there no more ,
and theyíll be the poor beggars outside my door .
Iíll mind my own business but don't let them forget,
the day big business couldnít repay all their debt .
By Paul McCann