The Cons fed no rations...hahaha

The house breaking Burglars are Chris, Joan, Tom and Kelly
Ably assisted by Jim and Cindy, the black and white *******
who broke up their families, move in together, to **** each other
Life's too short, forget abandoned spouses, what the hell, ok
Then there's Linda, who's had three husbands in ten years
all leaving after a while, leaving her with two kids
to look after, what a palaver, where's a true lover
These ******* ****, use and take then do a runner
Her trust in ******* men ruined to pieces and no nookie

All dysfunctional lives, full of pain, angry at the world
Yes we're in Limehouse, but do we have to **** sour juice
They're all seeking to vent, seeking revenge for their miseries
Look that couple upstairs, always bright, styled like Vogue
neat and tidy, full of laughter, going places, yuppie cts
See quiet husband, walks like Bowie, with a kin of **** swagger
And the wife so cute and petite, drives the shiny Red Mini
He ***** her every night, I hear them, I tell you
Their skins glows, shines like the sun, too happy by half

Chris the Scot married to strife and bother
The criminal life is such wahala, police here and there
its hide and seek, no money, no nookie, no nothing
Well OK, there's Tennants and Special Brew to drown the blues
****** hubby again in Wormwood Scrubs serving ******* Majesty
Tom ain't stealing as much as father, have to beg next door again
Joan is ******* and ain't making no money, now in the duff
only fifteen, by ******* Nobby, from the Young ******* Socialist Brigade, Kelly is also ******* and only twelve, what a life
Ahh ....  life on the Estate is life in *******

Listen you all, here's the deal, here's the number
Those ******* Happy couple at number fifteen
Why ain't them struggling like us all, where's the cushty
You don't see them carping, the ******* are loaded,
Them knobs have it all, smiling and laughing like *******
Let put some fire up their *****, let's teach them street life
Hears they think they are royalties, let tax their ****** *****
I'll be the lookout, you kick in the ****** doors
Liberate their valuables, we'll all have a party

******* Nora, the quiet man has blown a frigging gasket
Says he gonna tell all we are crooks, gonna evict us, the fool
Go get the posse, go put out a contract, a ****** for the jump
We are Eastenders, born by Bow bells, and we look after our own
How ****** dare the toffee nosed tory, says I should go get a job
as if, working for honest gain is our thing, ****** idiot
Yes mate, the boys are out, the contract is on
Let's see Jackanory tell us a bleeding story
Hero to Zero is now playing at Roman Street market

Break them up, mash  them down, ruin their lives
lets play 'trading Places, see how the cts feels
I already see cool man strung up. dangling on a rope
How dare they live happy and comfortable
two wages, car, dining out, new attire every day
Come on Jim, Cindy, Linda, all go get your mates
There's work to be done, no time to play
We are the TUC, that's Thieves United Confederation
And we've got the ******* Red Boys in the Team

It's down Tobacco road for Mr Tory, the bleeding ******
Ain't no more laughter, we'll put them in the gutter
Lie and slander, defame and harass, topple Saddam
Get the ******* Red mill going, its round Robin time
How's yer father,  no more mate, not ****** likely for a while
Yer only leg-over is gonna be legging it to the Social Security
Its Dole time, pain and miseries for you sunshine
Sing a song of hate, pariah on a roundabout
Yer marathon man now mate, come meet the Red Devils

Here, They need no ******* introduction

It seems like that house has been burning for years
been empty for longer, with no one expiring
There's no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears.

As neighbors dip toes into collective fears
The flames wrap its figure in slight silver lining;
It seems like that house has been burning for years.

There's no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears
they left behind dry wood and outdated wiring
and old matches hid in the attic upstairs.

The blame falls on nobody's shoulders but theirs;
The Gavroches whose tired house was expiring -
It seems like that house has been burning for years.

Forget what you witnessed of fire from peers
Or better yet, listen and find them inspiring!
There's no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears.

Ignore all the smog, and be smug as it clears
"The house was full!" Witnesses say, it gets tiring.
It seems like that house has been burning for years
With no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears.

I'm not a good person
I'm not that bad,
But I don't merit enough
To wear the cape.

I'm caught in a contingency
Of expression
More so riding pale lines
Of old boundaries of morality

Good and Evil have become words
Demise and Salvation interchange
And I'm left to dig,
Searching for my soul under the rubble.

Chuckling and weeping are devoured
By silence in corridors where tennants tiptoe
Feeling and hearing the ominous nothing.

I am the nothing.

It kept building, in the way all things do
Like a rising crescendo.
It took one and half years to break me:
The distance, the disease,
The divorce
The accumulation of pennies in my jar,
One for each heartbreak
I am become afraid of my own kitchen,
Of too many noises
Of trusting things I thought were mine,
My stability crumbles on sandy foundations
The tighter I hold, the greater the cold.
Its not within me yet,
but the many lashed open wounds
Might yet grant entry
To fill the warm spaces that were emptied
A bloodless, blood loss eviction
I write this to stand guard
Against new tennants

And I am afraid
They may have already arrived
Or perhaps
They never left