Council Rust

This subconscious dread. As the anger builds once again in my head, arms outstretched, imperialist, loud, drunk, sunburned, pissed. And I realise that I must learn to sustain, to never let them grind me down, to never let the bastards win, to stay alert, stay in control, stay angry Hypocritical soundbites on a drunken whim. It's a masquerade, impractical dismay. And I'm baffled, I'm lost to it, I'm losing it Why does nobody else see through this shit? How has it fallen through? This corporate killing, a generation of liars pushing through their filth. My insecurity, my like for like, my lonesome follow back. Football billboard, sponsored shirt I'm likе a walking fucking advert. And I'm everything I hatе. I'm a brand, I'm loyal, I'm local, so you've got me There's a break in Saturday night telly and I recognise the voice. It's nice, it's friendly. It's from the radio, morning show, telling me not to worry, it's fine. You're alright, you're alright. Stop being sour, have some more wine And you feel better now Greasy chips sedate our shoulders. Food banked, debted, in fear. Down in the cheapest beer amongst reports of endless fighting Like the whitest of the whitest of the whitest of the lightning. As you tell me about your success. You tell me who you stood on to get where you are Your business victories, the nice company cars. And I bask in your glory for standing there before me. This self-satisfied also ran supping up cigarette time Breath like a motorway bedsore. Living rooms full of dead flowers. Metal-plated windows glistening wild on empty towers That constant reminder, the blood-stained underpass. The front door porch of broken frosted glass. How many faces can I forget? The gutless prosperity, the chinless regret Shuffling backsides in the dark. In this overgrown municipal play park. And it's falling apart This council rust. This weather-beaten lack of trust. As these streets stack full of drunken ghosts Awaiting their fate in the middle class of the road. So strike once again that Jesus pose. Raise your glass Forget it. Be free. As I wonder where my memorial bench might be What will it overlook? What will it overlook? And what will it overlook?