So this is what its come to, a barm cake and a bun or two, a poor man who can't afford the 'flu and sits in heavy coat and sweater to get a little heat,it gets better,
A candle burns under my bed,the blanket's on but the electrics gone and its getting ****** cold,the candle light takes hold and flames appear,which is the only flaming light in here and the gas is going too,no porridge tomorrow unless I can borrow a couple of quid.

If only I could rid myself of poverty and be like those other folks I see who live in financial security,
and what's the use it'll never happen to me.
I'll be poor of that I'm sure until the day I die and then I'll be poor a little more when they put me six foot underfloor
but at least I'll be warm with all my friends who congregate where this life ends and have a jar or two,sod the cold and sod the 'flu and sod the ****** rich folk too.
I will pull through to the other side
I will find a star and hitch a ride or climb up the ladder and slide down a snake,either way the choices that I make are mine and mine alone and if I have no home,no candle light or mobile phone,you'll find me in the park,in the dark
talking to myself.