When wind was telling the stories of the coming currency,
Rainy days stopped me from wondering about uncertainties.
Tomorrow is supposed to be the day the money coming in
But there was no news, total silence from the man of authority.
And I have been feeding on stale bread for every meal,
Keep on munching though it had passed the date of expiry.
I have no money, am thinking of a sugar daddy,
So bad news is bad, bad as a stale bread story.