An Angel supports the one shoulder,

the beast leans on the other side

ego in the middle

balanced on its pride.

Angel says, ‘Just take a step, we’ll walk the extra mile.’

The beast then says, ‘Turn the key – we’ll both arrive in style.’

The angel pants, ‘I can’t keep up, you’re going far too fast,

it’s the wrong way, think Dodo, or yours will be the past.’

The beast with its seductive tone,

puts down your foot, hands you the phone.

Reaches down, turns up the heat.

Snow outside, but cosy feet.

As the angel runs the dotted lines

Dodging lorries, leaping signs

Through the blizzard squinting tight,

Beyond endurance, through the night.

Dodging cans that some beasts throw,

Choking on the acid snow.

Then the beast plays its hand

Whilst speeding down this road it’s planned.

It hands the phone, the talk’s of cash!

The shares are up … then the crash.

The beast is there, it’s got its goal:

For it you’re just another soul.

The beast departs, or leaves the scene: carnage all around, gloating in its victory, hellward it is bound.

Well the angel tries to break your fall, or catch you as you fly

It believes in life immortal and doesn’t want for you to die.

It guides the paramedics and guides the surgeon’s loving hand

This angel never leave your side, this was never what it planned,

For you the plan was paradise, for freedom and for Love

Equality of life for all and no man put above.

The plan was peace and freedom, but freedom needs no cash:

by money’s chain we’ll all remain imprisoned, until the crash.

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