Lonely fern clings onto blackened brick/ Labile fronds rusted by seasons/

Hypnotised./ Mesmerised,/ Desensitised ...

The smog intrudes,/ It knows no locks,

There’s a global consumer that lives in this land. Believing that cash buys him power in his hand

Our brand designers/ who art in fashion/ Hallowed be thy names,

My clever child,/ Oh how you’ve grown,/ But always I’ll be near.

We are adrift/ on a vast ocean

From Wynyards Gap the livelong day/ We beat afoot the Northward way/ We had travelled times before.

Clap for those who are suffering in silence/