Brighton
I wandered through these chartered lanes,
where all the chartered shoppers flow,
dirty hands begged for change,
white collars cried out no!
In every sale in every shop,
in every pound within the till,
in every strike on every clock
hearts sink deeper still.
Graduates snatch any wage,
some fall beyond all hope,
employment’s such a dreary cage,
that hangs on uncertain rope.
And through the midnight streets there lay,
those in homes without a key,
a pier was left to rot away
here in London by the sea.
(2012)
Préféré par...
