DOCKLANDS SCUM

I'm all out of ideas.
East London is Olympic disaster,
Kids throwing cold chips at passers by.
Estate for the souless...

Next door's painted up model of a pitbull,
We can't afford real chav dogs here.

'This is my dream home'
Everything I ever desired,
But only when i open the door
And it's you.

Hoods up...
You could pass for one of them,
Grown men topless, fighting in the street.

I can smell the best green in London.

You changed on my doorstep,
The angry fell off your face,
You look better when you smile.

Nobody drives these trains,
And they don't stop when it snows,
We need to be able to get out of here.

"We've gone on holiday by mistake"
He says,
And I laugh.