Look at him! Oh, what a sight! What a sickly sod!

(Hey - it could be me - yeah, you know, but for grace of God...)

Jesus! There's another one! A grand parade of ills!

Far too poor for doctors who put price tags on their skills.

Lying in the public ward (Oh, sorry - Hall of Freaks -

Sometimes when I'm writing it's my inner self that speaks.)

 Live forever? Easy! Come, and let me show you how:

Flash your cheque book at the door "The Doc will see you now!"

What? You've got no money? Then you know what you must do:

Things will take a little while, you'll have to join the queue.

Dollar bills can diagnose a long and healthy fate,

(But if you're sick and you're not rich then man, you'll have to wait!)

One by one, this march of mutants pitifully pass,

A monstrous catwalk of the damned (a sick, politic farce,)

The money that could heal them? Sorry, was already spent

On votes, on war (accountable - yep - every single cent!)

The Freak Show passes endlessly though with another name:

"The Public Health Care System" - (Circus, hang your head in shame.)

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