In fury we stand,

As a jury we stand,

Howling and showing our teeth, hand-in-hand.

And we stand in the face of the money denied,

The refusal of funds and the children that died,

The shifting of sand in the government’s hands,

Diminishing the firefighters and police of this land.

Yet they constantly say they’ll be best for OUR nation,

But won’t vote for homes fit for human habitation,

And the reasons they gave were all figures and lies,

Yet few now have the courage to look into the eyes

Of the desolate grieving, stood shaking their fists,

Back at those we fear MOST: the Westminster terrorists,

Devoid of all care for the folk they deem scum,

Whilst counting their profits and cladding their slums.

Cos THEIR children will never have benefits withdrawn,

No matter how sick or disabled their spawn,

They won’t grow up to live with the roaches and rats,

In the cheapest of unfit-for-habitation flats.

It could all have been avoided, that’s the very worst part,

As for years people begged, shouting out from their hearts,

For basic home safety, not cheap, shitty walls,

Then were threatened with courts, given no legal aid at all.

You can’t fight in the courts for your rights, without cash,

Your family’s health and their safety are considered to be trash,

By a government whose aim is to push and to batter,

The poor of this country because they really don’t matter.

Fuck their health and their future, their hopes and desires,

Give them sanctions on welfare and call them all liars.

Make the sick go to work, pay the workers shit wages,

Then label them shirkers in the Daily Mail’s pages,

Where they ladle the blame for austerity’s dear cost,

On immigrants and those they deem the great unwashed.

But the lies are on show now for all to behold,

Like the ashes of the lost they sit darkened and cold.

And the people now march to Mrs May’s door,

Wanting justice, and answers, and SO very much more.

Then they’re told that their ‘mob-rule’ will just make things worse,

Go home and sit tight, she’ll look into her purse,

For some pennies to spend on a flood of fake tears,

But the truth is out now, time to change up the gears.

The guilty must pay, for all they’ve condoned.

This underhand genocide, must now be OWNED.