Corruption

Dirt and filth

Lie in pornographic streets

And I lie in my home

With nothing but thoughts.

The wickedness of Britain

Has put a gun to our head,

A sermon to God

Before we are dead.

The streets start to crowd us,

We are covered in soot,

People jump from buildings,

A hangman’s rope in a room.

As our bodies are thinning,

Our bones showing through

My one possession

Is a stolen pair of shoes.

The government has us crucified,

A crown of thorns,

Our blood shall be a river

Where no one can cross.

If we had the guts,

Energy and strength

Guns would be our masters

In our own rebellion.

To hell with the government

Who have stolen our lives,

My city is a concentration camp

Patrolled day and night.

The key to our freedom

Would be the death of Thatcher

Murdered by a terrorist or street observer.

The countryside has us dried up,

The animals are being slaughtered,

It is meat for the rich

Even less for the poor.

The warning signs of treachery

Have us running

For our pockets are empty

Prostituted for money.

I will poison myself

Before I am thirty

Because my life is lifeless,

My life is dirty.

For my life is

A cartoon comic strip

And I am purchased

For a few English pence.