At 1 am on a Wednesday morning, no one knew what was in store A fire started and quickly spread until it covered every floor Stairwell blocked, no way out, smoke and fire all around Parents grabbed their little babies, dropped them ten floors to the ground People cried to no avail, 24 stories tall Engulfed in flames, the fire ladders were just like toys, no use at all
There were no sprinklers, few smoke alarms, fire extinguisher out of date All repairs, if ever done, always too little, too late When they built Grenfell they believed housing was a human right But all that changed, now if you're not rich you should be kept out of sight Out of sight, out of town, or wrapped up neatly, plastic-clad The flats may all be falling apart, but at least they don't look too bad
The residents had tried to warn the authorities for years and years But all their letters, all their blog posts, all their calls fell on deaf ears Council housing taking space, left to rot, for by and by It would someday be turned to dust in the forward march to gentrify And in the meantime if people perish with their children in their laps It's the price the market has to pay, to house the poor in fire traps
If this were murderTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
