HARBOUR VIEWS

There are snipers on the opera house sails

While affluence enjoys a spending spree

And the winds of change are howling like gales.

It’s time for aperitifs and cocktails

For random heirs of inequality.

There are snipers on the opera house sails.

Yellow windows behind balcony rails

Make the northern shore look like a marquee

And the winds of change are howling like gales.

Trains cross the bridge like tethered silver snails,

Carrying day workers lately set free.

There are snipers on the opera house sails.

Night workers work at all their toil entails,

Servers serve pinot noir and chic chablis,

And the winds of change are howling like gales.

Those called great and good spin magical tales;

But who can write an accurate précis?

There are snipers on the opera house sails,

And the winds of change are howling like gales.