It’s not so much a credit crunch
More the end of who you are
You are on the scraphead
On the slag heap
In the bone crushers yard
All for going to school and
Studying, oh so hard
Thrown you to the dogs they have
Now you’re not so Lah di Dah
Like Terry Christian on TV
You’re an echo of how it used to be
You thought you had a right to life
To work, and live and eat
To hold a spark of dignity
To stand upright an upright man
To hold in hand humanity
How quick you turned from that to this
A low down piece of vagrant shit
Good job you’re not a virgin
I would not touch yours with his
Your cold dead eyes stare placidly
As if you’re petrified
This world was always here chum
It welcomes you now, with arms open wide
Don’t ask to be forgiven, or for sanctuary
Just get on with this living, alien though it be
What do you have left to sell?
Where’s your homeland now, your space in hell?
Your kids are all on Ketamin
Better that than your love and vitamins
Canter Gallop Fucking Trot
Now your heads upon the block
No comments:
Post a Comment