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A leading broadsheet ran a story of corruption at the top / Politicians, press and coppers tied together in a knot / And though it was quite rare to see such claims substantiated / No one seemed at all surprised, it just left us all deflated.

It merely confirmed our deeply held suspicions of a government that let itself go rotten to the core / Ambivalence and resignation, anesthetising mutilation oh, Nye Bevan’s plan, ripped apart and left in tatters on the floor.

A front bench of old Etonians, a gang of millionaires / Screaming, “we’re all in this together” whilst they amputate welfare / A diagnosis of austerity and economic growth / A multi-faceted denial of our ability to cope / Oh look, another hospital just closed.

True hope resides in that moment where a person holds their hand out to a stranger on the ground / I will not allow myself to be destroyed by these betrayals / I won’t ever let these bastards grind me down.

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