Mark Heathcote

Gold Star - 18,159 Points (22/03/66 / Manchester)

A Fever Burns - Poem by Mark Heathcote

A fever burns like a jetlag, hell
And it happens every day,
Try just to pay your way…
Feed and dress your family,
It isn’t easy these days.
Nor was it easy in your parent’s days.
So when your anger burns
Because you want to rise-up and leave
Remember how too your elders suffered…
At the hands of a so called, brother.
Oh, freedom…
Its only a memory of your head in a basket?
Oh, freedom…
Is a hypocrite asking for your votes?
Making women out of blokes
Ooh a fever burn like a jetlag, hell
And it happens every day,
Try just to pay your way…
God was a bartering fool
Who thought he could trust
Man with an unforgiving soul
And still find his way home.
But it isn’t easy these days.
Just trying to be nice
Being a good neighbour
Because it isn’t easy these days
To feed or dress your family
Nor was it easy in your parent’s days.
So when your anger burns—
Because you want to rise-up and live
Remember how too your elders suffered…
At the hands of a so called, brother.
Oh, freedom…
Its only a memory of your head in a basket?
Oh, freedom…
Is a hypocrite asking for your votes?
Making women out of blokes
Ooh a fever burn like a jetlag, hell.

Topic(s) of this poem: song


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Poem Edited: Sunday, March 23, 2014


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