Top Cat

The fat cats purr into their curdled cream,
The wolves are barking at the door,
Dead, amber eyes peer through the letterbox,
Waiting to defecate upon the floor.

This is the fiefdom we abide in,
Overruled by the covetous barons of yore,
Our lives all forfeit to extortion,
All fair under the moderate eye of the law.

Save up that pretty penny,
You picked up from the ground,
And pray to your pockets,
For God has been reborn as the sterling pound.

This society built upon bones,
They'll hike up the rates,
And repossess your homes,
Every memory and keepsake has its price,
They'll take it all away,
And there is not a word that you could say,
These are the virtues of the bankers’ vice.

A monopoly of livelihoods to barter with,
All at a rate of over 6.16% APR,
We are the illuminated western world,
Yet still in the Feudal Age, we truly are.

Let those Valentine's hearts in your eyes,
Be replaced by dollar signs,
And buy some love with your overdraft,
Just make sure to not incur the fines.

For this is the alley of Top Cat!
He runs the race,
And preys upon all the rats,
Your fate and fortune,
All victim to a banker’s discretion,
It raises the question,
Maybe it's our humanity that's in recession?
The world is in debt,
But from out of the rubble,
They get a bonus,
For all their ill-gotten trouble.



Aaron J. Crawford