Whadda bloody ell we done
punished f bein young?
We int goh enough Cs t get on,
we're jest letters t them.
Carn get no jobs see,
the fewture's an emtee ground ;
they send us t Charitee shops
an Pound shops t work f'r nothin.
Gotta live at ome, no choice,
carn afford no flat or ouse.
Yew wonder why we live t fly,
off of ower eads on dope 'n' booze.
Coz bein young's a crime t'day,
always debts an fines t pay.
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