The shops are closed
In town centre roads
Queues form only
For foodbanks and jobs.
No one whistles any more
In the cold dispair
They walk head down
Deep in thought.
For 13 long years
Deprived of help or care
Suicide rates they fly
Beneath a capitalist sky.
Food bills they soar
What are we here for
If not to make the rich
Even richer.
As Brexit bites
During cold Winter nights
An entire country sold
Down a river of lies.
Politicians expense accounts
Keep on their lights
Warming privileged toes
As another pensioner dies.
It surely cannot go on
What the hell have they done
To this country our voices
And lives ?