Sign Of The Times
We know who they are
We see them all around
Constantly shuffle their feet
Ugg's never leave the ground
They wear baggy hoodies
To hide the rolls of fat
But give them a second glance
“Oi, what you looking at?”
“You can’t afford these”
Is normally their opening line
Whilst jiggling their tits
But you’re not really inclined
“Are you gay or summat?”
“I’m as fit as fuck me”
Is the usual response
As the wail like a banshee
They manage to shout this
Without the fag leaving lips
Then tries to act provocatively
By thrusting out her hips
All of this is done
With a small child in tow
But it does absolutely nothing
To halt the expletive flow
The words just empty out
Like water down a drain
But there’s no fucking plug
To stem the refrain
You look all around
To see who she’s referring to
No other folk in sight
So assume it must be you
You look down at the pushchair
And see a scruffy mite
Dummy welded to its mouth
It should be in hers, the gobshite
You wonder what a life
This child is starting to lead
A constant diet of bilge
The mother is starting to feed
Does it start off early
With benefit funded sky TV
Whilst mum lies on the couch
And smokes a fag or three
She cheers on her peers
Pouring out their bile
Its the highlight of the day
Watching Jezza Kyle
The nightmare vision is halted
By an ear shattering sound
This woman is mouthing off
Again nothing profound
“Are you still fucking looking?”
“You’ve got a fucking nerve”
“Are you eyeing up booty”
“You dirty fucking perv”
You try to extricate yourself
But you’re not sure how
You come down to her level
“Oh fuck off yer silly cow”
You think of your own family
To try to pull you through
Your biggest regret is though
She breathes the same air as you.
