Tower Block
The 18 bus trundled down the cobbled Millbrook streets
Cold and wet, begrudgingly going to our home
We tried to stay out; nuisance neighbours kept us awake
Nothing the council could do, just hint at a move for our sake
The cold, thin chipped paint peeled off the railings in the block
The smell of cat food and roast potatoes was always a shock
Anti-social behaviour in the block was rife
Loud pumping music was just a way of life
The lift was out, now to tackle the stairs with a pram
People pushing past you, they don't give a damn
Rubbish bags collected, the postman is due
Not much to hold onto, faith was for the few
Paul is now crying, this is no way to live
Cold and hungry, carpetless and curtainless nothing would give
The woman opposite our flat starts to scream, nothing new
I pull the duvet over my head, this life should be only for the few
The strange sound of drilling always at 6 o'clock
The neighbourhood warden tried to give us a knock
In the midnight garden comes on at the same time
Never one for missing it, Paul smiles at the sign
Hot chocolate in the kitchen being kept wide awake
Pacing the floor thinking of how I could possibly escape.
Environmental health with all his gold rings
Never did anything to atone for his sins
They wrote a note on the system and told us to keep true
No sense of comfort knowing they didn't have a clue
Out all day and night whatever the weather
Never expecting it to even get better
Mental health and noise meant I sprayed crimson up the wall
Looking back now I can see how far I had to fall
Evaluating at the time I asked God if this was my lot
There was only a certain amount of strength I had got
The police, the weed, the noise and the phones
How on earth could anyone call this a home?

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