Another summer of discontent

 

I’m sick of looking at your poker face,

Your tryna kill of the working class race,

Just keep on fuelling our ever burning fire,

Coz the embers keep igniting our desire,

 

A better future, I hear you say,

But it’s us poor, who have to pay,

You cut us down, like we are a disease,

You’ve done more than bring this country to its knees,

 

Let the meek suffer and in poverty live,

As long as we work and your taxes we give,

Let our hero’s go cold and our heroines hunger,

Let the population die quicker and younger,

 

The suicide rate has nearly doubled its true,

But I suppose that means nothing to you,

The food banks are empty, but soon in time,

To feed our kids, we will turn to crime,

 

Like a Victorian quote from times of misery,

But Mr Cameron it’s the twenty first century,

Give us back worth and what is meant,

Before another summer of discontent,

 

Christina Ford