A Fever Burns Poem by Mark Heathcote

A fever burns like a jet lag, 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 to your elders suffered
At the hands of a so-called, brother.
Oh, freedom
Is it 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 jet lag, 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 to your elders suffered
At the hands of a so-called, brother.
Oh, freedom
Is it 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 jet lag, hell.