The Impostors
This is a reality poem that effects us all, one
way or another.(depending on what fence your
sitting on)
You sold us all, down the drain
After years of fighting in Labours name
We marched with banners,flying high
It was them or us, do or die
But along the way you lost the plot
You've dumped us all, the working lot
You sold our "Silver" to the highest bid
You've sold it all, to wealthy PIGS
You make us sick, with your Tory ways
Council Tax, petrol tax to name but two
A burden created by your stinking crew
Many a pensioner goes "cap-in-hand"
Along the length of this "Rich mans Land"
You’re not the labour of the working class
You suck the detritus from the rich mans arse
They are the ones who pull the strings
That makes your mouths jerk and sing
We've had enough of your "Blair-rite" ways
Your time has come to leave your seats
And get out of our sight, you TORY CHEATS.
Citizen Smith,power to the people
(Via Peter Wicks)
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