London (Polish Builders)

Those Polish builders on every street,
Boy do enjoy life's heat,
Drink 10 units to sustain lifes pain,
The homless sat outside Tesco in the rain,
in their own piss,
the man in the suit,
they just missed.

The turkish barber with talent to spare,
Looks at his wage and rent with dispair,
a 6 year old cant be offered a seat,
with the anxious man staring at his feet.

The yoga teacher is trying her best,
to bring presence to some of the rest,
The football fans leave tneir own wake,
their on their own missons for heavens sake,

The inmates inhalen that new spice,
The gambler stares at the old dice,
the roulette wheels keeps on spinning,
never questioning why the house is winning.

The sex workers and the brown,
the feeling of high- and the feeling of down,
Barclays, Mcdonalds, Wonga and Nike,
Kanye West picks up Elvis' mic.

Trains delayed, workers on strike,
pollution levels, so use your bike,
100 bottles of wine in every strore,
Travelling across London my souls does tore.

The kids they need to carry a strap,
the adults must please Mind The Gap,
the food on offer every 10 feet,
the confused bobbies on a 4am beat,

18 nightbus, up the Harrow Road,
the pulls the living wage driver and his lesser load,
that bloke beating his beautiful wife,
the Uber driver finding the new life.

The PIP gone, no change to spare,
The judge JC with some more grey hair,
This is London welcome to my city,
Enjoy your stay but dont you feel pity?