Institutionalised Clown

Who's got twenty quid?
I need some bright new clothes
A flower in my lapel
A rip in my throat pocket

I used to laugh
In a high pitched wheal
Now I comb my few strands
And Growl

My children never Visit
Their children don't know
I'm even alive
Or even Dead

I used to move
Like an attacking spider
Now....
I .....
Don't