The Hill
The Hill
I don’t like you,
I don’t like you and fuck you, (they say)!
And it’s difficult for me to understand,
To really comprehend their hate!
And I guess, somebody has
To be the butt of their derision,
To be the focal point of all they mistake.
You don’t get merit marks for knowing too much
But now, I am dumbed down,
And know not why they have
Basterdised my brain - and continue
Without pause to stall my every
Positive intention
So
Let’s put it straight,
Coming from the hill you’re ill
As they judge too freely
With suspicion and guilt
And it’s a post codal victory
For assailants sitting rich
Who have never had to scratch
The Earth just to make a pitch!
Know your place young man,
But my young has gone,
Was never really there
From very early on
As despondent from only
Very small I carried on
A clown for who could take
The teaching seriously
While the beatings imprisoned
Every thoughtful wish
Of succeeding within the plot
Designed to thicken skin
And never, never broaden the mind –
My life, my poor poor poor life,
Has never been my own
And no wonder they disown
The system, when romantics
Dangle carrots for the next
Generation of wannabes but
Never have - been,
They never get to where
They want to go – a far away place
Where they can forget,
Because the system lets
Them down,
Keeps them down as
Guinnea-Pigs and labour force
And forces to roam the world
Propagating society’s failings.
I dragged myself up from
Ghetto speak that spoke
Of only racism and bigotry,
And love was never a lorra lorra fun,
So I stole a gun,
Compared my madness to the crowd
That sits in sadness for each cherub
Carrying rounds that take away
Another humans life,
And there but for the grace
Go you with afterthoughts of contempt
When the soldier turning criminal
Reacts only to the stress,
She goaded me till the blank
Criminal record became a dozen dandy
Sheets and, you’re better in bed
When you’re angry she whispered
On my return from duties
Yet behind my back she was
Shagging half the town.
A dozen dandy sheets of victory
Not knowing that I loved her all along
But the winding up was just too much
Her fantasy,
yet
Still, all is fair in love and war
But I wasn’t born for battle honours
And perhaps I shouldn’t have been
The born at all,
But I am here along with
A third of Britain’s poorest
Scratching pitching scrimping
Saving slaving shaving every
Morning another penny off the budget
Hating the faculty of poverty
The hard knock school that makes
Fools of those who really think
They make a difference
And it’s ignorance in Whitehall
Forsaking all the veterans
Before they even know
The cenotaphs existence
But it’s persistent of
A system that just doesn’t
Work for most,
The hill,
The Darn hill, the hill,
A sand posted line crossed by those
With greater minds is never
Run by premieres or presidents
Ministers or Clergy,
But an authority that snide’s behind
Every Prime Candidates belief,
For your not running the show
Cameron, Neither Gordon Brown,
Neither Thatcher, Wilson,
Heath, Callaghan,
Scargill, Major or the Queen,
Williams is!
Michael J Waite 26th November 2011.
Isobel
Sat 26th Nov 2011 10:47
Great audio - you really know how to perform your stuff!