Primitive, sub-mental, low-life, dick,
Would crack an old man’s skull with a stick
For the change in his pocket, you make me sick.
You walk about like you own the streets,
Recruiting through incomprehensible tweets,
As you burn down buildings the atmosphere heats,
And the rest of the country’s patience depletes.
You’ll loot anything – Example: Gregg’s baked treats,
Lattices filled with savoury meats,
Four ipods each, for surround-sound beats,
But your warranty’s invalid if you don’t have receipts.
There’s a person on the ground, bleeding and confused,
Someone your mates have already abused,
He’s helped to his feet and his bag is perused,
Nothing that you want, so he is excused.
You’re worse than shit I’ve scraped from my shoe,
You reckon society owes something to you,
You say you’ve got nothing better to do,
Well then, here’s a suggestion or two…
You could take your old-man-hitting-stick and shove it up your arse,
I’d say you’d learn a lesson, but grey matter must be sparse,
Next time you burn a car out or set fire to a shop,
You might douse yourself in petrol, and throw yourself on top.
It would be wise to find some other ways to take out your frustration,
Which you claim stems from economic issues like inflation,
But you need another reason to excuse your actions soon,
Because we know you think inflation’s something done to a balloon.
I want you to know I hate you, and all you represent,
And I’m sure there is an island, to which you could all be sent,
But we’re not allowed to do that, on account of human rights,
Which apparently you have, despite the last few nights.
To sum up, you say you’re out there, because your lives are shite,
But you’re not improving things by running wild at night.
If you hate your life so much, you could attempt to change it,
There are saintly people out there, who might help you to arrange it.
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