Yours Truly, Confused N10

Dear sir or madame, I don't normally write to the press

But the neighbourhood where I grew up is really quite depressed.

Society is crumbling but the media's obsessed with boobs, bums,

Dot com, millionaires, fame, fashion, footsie shares

But people they couldn't care less.

While parliamentary yobbos shout abuse around the house

Do-gooders and reformers lead our nation to defeat.

While murderers and terrorists get compassionate release

You're out now. You're back on the street yeh, back on the street.

That's why I remain yours truly, confused N10.

I close my eyes and lay back and I think of England.

I dream about that green and pleasant land we knew as England.

That throne of kings, that sceptred isle set in a silver sea

Has turned into a laughing stock divided without harmony.

That's why I remain yours truly, confused N10

The burglars have ransacked all the houses in the street

While Mercs and Posches double park with sheer impunity.

When towed away the ponces plead to all and sundry

Referee what about me?

So forgive my lack of confidence and total low esteem

But the dog eat dog society has deemed us all has-beens.

While our smiling bland spin doctors slyly lead us down the track

to a stab in the back.

I'm much too terrified to go out at night but the television's boring.

They're vandalising all the cars on the street

but I won't lay down and take defeat.

That's why I remain yours truly, confused N10

Thank you goodnight