Lonely is the bank account
Unbiassed numbers in the air
That may or may not work for me
Most often leaves me in despair
Even though I know what I would like
My Bank can’t work it out
No matter if I calmly try
I’m left to languish up the spout
Who makes these frequent questions
I’ve never found one for my task
Like a fairground spinning carrousel
There’s no such help as “simply ask”
“Don’t call us we do not talk”
Sums up our distant bank
Who makes money from our money
No more Mr Anyguy that long ago they shrank
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