I put a fifty pound deposit down
A twelve foot square of room
A toilet that doesn’t flush
And a carpet that’s never seen a broom

The refrigerator it has mildew on
The last tenants cooking, is still in the 
pot
And when you’ve seen the forks and
 knives
Well, you’ve seen the forking lot

The mattress is full of pissed stains 
The last host he was on smack
I found his hypodermic needle
When I was scraping out the bath

The bathrooms ceiling leaking
All night it’s drip, drip, drip
I guess this is how a rat must feel 
Before he deserts a sinking ship

A solitary bulb hangs without a
 lampshade
Lighting this sparse and unfurnished
 room
Casting shadows of former residents
Across these botched plastered walls of gloom

The other residents and there are nine
 of them
Like me, they draw the welfare state
They stalk the hall and stairway
For their giro’s they lay in wait

Is this place I’m living in 
The furthest I can fall
Better to have this bed sit I suppose
Than to have no home at all

Better to have this bed sit, I suppose
Than to have no home at all