The world turns, it gathers moss, green as a winter, white with frost, two wars won, more have been lost, it always take war to measure the cost, social justice, a time for care, not to count the pennies, living in fear.
Past generations, old and alone, the plenty suffer the Tories bare bone, rich do not care their greed beyond measure, unemployable and disabled are not living in pleasure, see what you have when the world reacts back, a rusty broken gate, a mark on your back.
freedom is a feeling of penultimate joy for every Man,Woman, girl and boy, not the few that consider themselves better, not the wealthy and travelled go getter, nor the power crazed ridiculously smug, give the milk to the young carrying an empty jug.
Race is a colour not fiend or friend, inside each person is blood that will blend, death to hypocrisy, closing of walls, open the borders, see the hatred fall, help the poorest and freely walk tall.
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