Maybe Tomorrow

Maybe Tomorrow

False hopes of a generation, tell-tale signs of a broken nation.

Tower blocks decayed and grey, different types of vermin hide away

In the shadows, in the cracks, no one around for fear of attacks



Monoliths of misery reach for the sky, where poverty thrives and the forgotten they die

Hooded teenagers like outlaws of old count out the money from the powdered death that they sold

Laughing and joking in true gangster style, # real social media profile

Scarred burnt out vehicles and faded police tape a constant reminder of murder and rape

Violence is hidden behind every door, bruised dirty faces the badge of the poor

No food on the table, no shoes on their feet, for love and affection they have to compete

Girls on street corners sell love at a price and for one fleeting moment life feels so nice

Time rages on and bodies grow old, nothing to show for the dreams that were sold

Families with no prospects sit and decay, watching Jeremy Kyle every fucking day
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Where their lives are flaunted for human consumption, welcome to England land of dysfunction

Government past, present and future, no signs of recovery too far gone for a suture

Mass immigration is your greatest fear a controlled population, terror threat raised to severe

Pensioners sit in houses decayed, no respect do they get for the debts that they paid

Freezing to death as Winter takes hold, what kind of nation does this to the old

Old soldiers sit and dream of before, storming French beaches and fighting a war

Remembering old friends who forfeited their lives, for this now septic country where misery thrives

No police presence in this modern Gomorrah, things will surely get better, maybe tomorrow.

© Matt Earl