I am a common man
Jargon I don't understand
Plans, papers and statistics
puzzle me but make no sense
Dole I do regret
where is my self respect
with hands I want to work
And earn my own bread
Rags I wear on me
Dark is my tiny cell
Crumbs thrown into bins
Don't fill my half stomach
In every discussion and seminar
manifesto and election talk
I find place without stop
A vote that counts but that's all
Pity I don't want
Nor promises and pep talk
But hope I just once more
that new dispensation will give me a job!
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