Down the council
where I used to live,
they write to you in pencil
and erase you at will.

An appointment is the black spot that
they bomb into your hand,
every section or department is
a minefield and the snipers
who all own Audi's are working overtime
to pick poor people off.

They'll send you updates on the rent account
and the housing rates which mean everything,
and ignoring them brings another team from the
offices,
which we call the 'sting'.

Busy bees,
the bleedin' lot of them
poking in and poking off again,
it's time they wrote me in a ball point pen, thirty seven pence from 'Smith's' and then,
I'd feel welcomed into the community, feel I had a bit of immunity from the eraser men who only want me when my system falls apart, it really breaks my heart that I pay them part of my salary,
we should all be able to live this life rent free,
down the council
down the council
damage limitation, but I
got this inclination to ignore them and their eraser men, get a marker pen, paint my home with red ink, then **** the lot of them, let them send me South,
down to Marshalsea,
if this life's a fail
let me end up in,
that cosy place they call,
'****** 'all'

debtor's jail.