THE CRASS SYSTEM
No future or career, for the lowest tier, a very murky future is both
evident and clear, has the shiny gloss, being stripped from the veneer.
Casino capitalism out of control, austerity measures tougher, bankers rode the gravy train, this ran into the buffer, all of a sudden, grinding to a halt, Tories blaming Labour, launch a verbal fault, we need an economic kick start, to give a sudden jolt.
Liquidation across the nation, Retail outlets had their final sales, what of greedy bankers they have tipped the scales, as the Government muddles on, the system fails, descendants of the Landed Gentry, who once wore top hat and tails.
When looking at the political surface, try looking underneath, rising inflation with decimalisation, in the days of Edward Heath, politicians break promises, some lie through their teeth.
THE JOBS POLICE.
Cameras watch your every move, acting like a spy, as the crime rate soars to an all time high, the destitute in doorways, on cardboard lye, all labelled as work shy, bedroom tax, and benefit sanctions, did they not comply! Some are drug related, await a dealer for supply. Clip board mania, from a charitable concern, my refusal stern, for a direct debit donation, asking those who never earn, hard times are upon us, for better days I yearn, as I await the revolution, for the tide to turn, the jobs police now on my case, from this sentence I adjourn! Surplus to requirement like a relic from the past, from agencies your turned away, in numbers vast, tagged and monitored, from your mobile phone harassed, with constant e mail text alerts, to find employment fast, a chill runs down your spine like an icy blast.
SINK OR SWIM
Those wet behind the ears have yet to suffer. The complainer makes waves. The conformist brainwashed. The unemployed, swim against the tide. The crisis loan applicant in deep water. The benefit cheat, will be flushed out. Those on pension credits, it’s now water under the bridge. In reality, we’re up the creek without a paddle. No spare cash for the N.H.S, Yet for the Olympics, the Government splashed out.
SUPERMARKET SAVAGES
A vulture culture, supermarket rhyme, greedy bargain grabbing punters, all arrive on time, seven o clock on the dot, they want the lot, sell by date reductions, they will only rot. With trolleys laden to the brim, to the checkout, off they trot.
MG rap.