Art, Poetry, Writing

One Thousand Housing Estates to the West

He woke up this morning,

To the cold and blistering sun,

Knowing full well he was on his last warning,

This is going to be any fun.

No food, no job, no gun, no hope

Just another day in this mess,

All he wants is to score some dope

But first he has to get dressed.

Did you hear the news today?

Did you hear the news today?

Another one laid to rest,

Another one of our best.

He takes whatever he can get,

Wallets, watches, phones, rings,

Making sure he can pay the debt,

Which he would not like to soon forget.

Just another day in this prison,

From the top of the flats to the bottom of the rats,

Everywhere you seem to look,

With neither rhyme nor reason,

It’s its own form of treason.

Did you hear the news today?

Did you hear the news today?

Another one laid to rest,

Another one of our best.

Just another day in the estate,

Another young one gone off to some cell,

Just another day in the estate,

Ah well.

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