Enough is Never Enough

It was a Tuesday And it was... bleak Torn from the wreckage of a broken home Only knows the love that he was shown He barges into a café he owns To bark marching orders At poor Kitchen Porters Fresh from the microwave A sandwich is thrown On a chipped plate The kitchen is in a state There's no need for pruning When business is blooming And his grandmother was a proud Filipino Slips his mind as he Dips his toes Into the world of a well-known racist Who explains it all in words he knows These fingers were made for pointing And enough is never enough The busker boy's chasing the dream By the beggar with the card machine And passing by the suit and tie Won't cast an eye Too fixated on a screen And 'blessed are the meek' I've heard them say but honestly There's no romance in poverty When dinner is a novelty And these fingers were made for pointing And enough is never enough Trudging Galway streets alone I can't help thinking, not to blame Romantic Ireland's dead and gone It's with O' Leary on a plane And everybody loves to bitch Factions speak louder than herds When rags to riches Turns wags to witches Fine feathers don't make fine birds These fingers were made for pointing