Where days go on and on, you feel the dirtiness reach into your eyes.
Some days are so ***** the gods and saints of London
lets the city rain **** for our punishment.
They watch laughing without any care
Cops rather chase the dope freaks,
instead of stopping the pill sellers right in every corner downtown.
cops who eat their **** for breakfast,
then go spouting it all over the innocent ones.
Jamaicans jamming the drums
i don’t know where to go?
Hamilton my old home,
still hasn’t wiped its *** in over fifty years.
but London here I come again,
another year with you.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 11:44 PM UTC
Where days go on and on, you feel the dirtiness reach into your eyes.
Some days are so ***** the gods and saints of London
lets the city rain **** for our punishment.
They watch laughing without any care
Cops rather chase the dope freaks,
instead of stopping the pill sellers right in every corner downtown.
cops who eat their **** for breakfast,
then go spouting it all over the innocent ones.
Jamaicans jamming the drums
i don’t know where to go?
Hamilton my old home,
still hasn’t wiped its *** in over fifty years.
but London here I come again,
another year with you.
Request permission to use this poem