John was born into, a family with no home

A sister that was almost dead, a mother that was alone.

Everyday she worked the streets, trying to earn a crust,

Pride was not an option, living was a must.

John grew up among the streets, learning the ways of the estate,

The elders taught survival methods, manhood had no time to wait.

John often bunked off from school, learning offered no damn hope

Escape found in alcohol, violence, girls and dope.

John tried to flee his life, but John he had no skills

He had to steal and peddle drugs, just to pay the bills.

One day John he got involved, from enemies he was grabbed

They punched his face, kicked his head, a knife to his heart they stabbed.

Still the Queen sits in her palace, subjects obeying her commands

Still the government sits in power, sitting scheming about their plans.

But far away a mother cries, at a funeral where there's no-one there.

Life goes on, no need for John, the world it doesn't care.