This experimental episode called the north
Whispers hatred resentment
Poverty fear
Further it screams being without
Here the thinline seams possibly a million miles away
Social reality is there is nothing here to hold
Or desire to cling too
The rows of old worn out houses
Cluttered littered streets and gardens
Hopelessness reaches out
Like the mist that overs this place sometimes for days
We are shrouded in hopelessness
The streets of fast food takeaways
The betting shops all together
Alongside the boarded up rat infested shop fronts
It stinks poverty and hopelessness
As the poor can only choose the spinning wheels of the lottery
The betting shop
And the fast food rip off merchants
While the many police sirens wail
The birds tweet
The youth look backward to a time that's glorified
Time that never really excisted
Time passes slowly this side of the tracks
As another sucide victim heads up to the railway tracks
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