Dancing to the Devil's Beat - Strawbs

The baker told the blind man

I’ve been watching you for weeks

Smiling when you cross the road

The blind man to his credit

Was both generous and kind

He never heard the bomb explode

They found his wounded wallet

Hanging from the banker’s sign

His white stick was a crumpled mess

Remains of him were vaporised

Apart from one big fist

The banker never did confess

He sailed into the sunrise

With a crw of lady boys

Howling like a dog on heat

Money is the root of evil

Join him on the deck

Dancing to the devil’s beat

The Minister for Pleasure

With a flick of his own wrist

Tossed a story to the waiting press

In truth we are determined

He said through gritted teeth

Government is handing the mess

The press reported little

There was little to report

Sickness spreading through the ranks

Disease was not contagious

It paralysed the tongue

The banker spat at them with thanks

The blind man showed remorse

With his bent and twisted stick

Wading in the blood around his feet

The Minister for Pleasure

Was first up on the floor

Dancing to the devil’s beat

A lean and hungry colleague

Asked me just the other day

'Who are you to criticize excess ?'

I told him to his face

He was hiding in a bubble

Living out the dream of his success

Without his old white stick

He was walking the plank

Pirates to his left and right

While his heavy burden

Had been lifted for a while

His pot of gold was out of sight

No one gives him space

In these twisted tangled times

Contempt they say is bitter sweet

You will always find him

Seething in the shadows

Dancing to the devil’s beat