Capital's pre-eminence made matter
Nailed to the high-rise, under the budgetary hammer
Do they sleep well, wrapped in irony?
Better that than tangled in austerity
Better ours than their children in poverty

Tide over the tampered-with, until it's their turn
A corner cut, a penny saved
Grenfell burns again and again and again

There's worse than the pox for all these houses

The scaffolding holding the bread from their mouths
As it rouses the worker to sell themselves short
Both foundation and corner-stone
And entirely bereft of support

If I drink Tollen's reagent
will I finally shine inside?
And will I see myself as God sees me
If I pour it in my eyes?
Pour it in my eyes

All's silent but for the rain
Weary lungs, asthmatic brain

And tell me, is this now the humour of it?
Some architect's great satire in prefabricated shit
The rot and the damp creeping in, every corner
A reflection of the presupposed sin
Of every presupposed hoarder
Scrounger! Thief! Gangrenous scab!
If the game's afoot I'll gladly lose the leg
This is not a house of amateurs
This is done with full intent

Always three months to the gutter
Never three months to the peak
Another day to grind your fingers
For the simple right to eat

Always three months to the gutter
Never three months to the crown
Another deep breath of asbestos
In a godforsaken town

Always three months to the gutter
Never three months to the top
Another set of fucking homeless
Spikes outside another empty shop

Always three months to the gutter
Never three months to ascent
This is not a house of amateurs
This is done with full intent