In the big city amongst municipal concrete?

Along a rugged coastline, rocks protruding? 

Within a deprived enclave, bereft of tears

No apparent progress for years and years 

Where do you belong?

 

Breathing clean country air out in the sticks? 

Near woodland or forest with healthy walks?

In a has-been village where coal was mined?

Where in desperation people turn to crime

Where do you belong?

 

Remote island or highlands in the bitter cold?

More sheep than people, more track than road

On the streets of London, Glasgow or

wherever, you can lay your head and say

“I’ll never trust the system ever again”?

Where do you belong?

 

In a political party or amongst the arty farty

with a certain label since a young upstart? 

With ordinary people or someone on a mission,

to change the world or simply make a living?

Where do you belong?

 

Are you striving for peace where you get no rest,

a downtrodden worker just trying his best to get by

each day whilst others make hay

as they sing their own songs?...

But the question is, where do you belong?