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Streets Of Whittington:

March 27, 2013

Deceptions Misconceptions misdirections
Fear an loathing hate an anger
Now come an take a walk with me
Amongst the many faces
Upon each one you see the lines
Pain an angst their only signs
Of a life held whilst living in alleys
Here I am an here I was
Born an raised on streets of gold
Promises an gestures but I never saw
No glory no riches just fear an lies
Painted faces screwed up places
Another shout another scream
Cozzers rozzers old bill the filth
Sweeping the passageways
As crack hoes take another note
Dealers holders runners skivers
Desire an drugs lust an drink
As another one passes out in the gutter
With the streets paved with blood
No Dick Whittington dreams here
They lay on the floor
All shattered like tear drops in the rain
Its always been this way a draw
A attraction to the masses
As they travel from far an wild
Like the lights of the fair
Or that new bought shop toy
Packaging suggests joy galore
Only to find its only a empty promise held within
Cameroon speaks but no one hears
Contempt an lies as another service closes
Banks hold money the fat cats laugh
Whilst the country sinks deeper in to the depths of despair
The price we must pay for bailouts an loans
An don’t forget your annual bonus
Faiths now long gone lost to the murky depths
We now we reside in a broken Britain
Where rats run an thief’s creep
No matter colour religion or creed
There’s no hope left here
Just as long the rich get richer
Stacking their bags of silver laughing at the poor
Begging surely for more with held out hands
They buy the hidden services an act so great so pious
That keep the wheels spinning
On the ever turning mill
That is the streets an passageways
If this city called London



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