In the End

My baby was born in a bed With white sheets, machines and heat Traveled home in a car to a three room nest, eats and sleeps Laminate flooring to crawl on, TV Talks, starts to walk, amongst love and security Goes to school, learns to read and write Probably follows a team with his friends And gets to ride the train Fall in love, probably fly on a plane Get to work all week and spend what he earns On the high street He's got doctors, nurses, fireman, churches Kindergarten, wedding bells and jet black hearses Passport, bankcard, maybe his own yard Locks and alarms, trinkets and charms Maybe a baby in his arms My baby was born on his knees One of poverty's offspring Came into the world coughing Already full of Mama's disease Went back to a flat, with no gas, no cash Rapped in a duvet full of cigarette ash Mama can't get no sleep Baby never quite get enough to eat Goes to school, learns to steal and fight Probably form a team with his friends Go steam those trains Fall in love and never trust nobody again Gets to work all week standing on the high street for Joe Hustling blow Hustling blow