England Is A... - Azekel, James Massiah

Late night, London rise from the north east side

Back by a high road

Seeing sight and street signs

Feeling low with dime lights

Hoping everything is gonna be alright

In time like these when the going is though

And it’s getting shot down or they’re shutting it

You might wonder if you can even begin to afford the dream on your shopping list

Plus, you’re torn between twin identities

The aspirational poor whose grand-parents form the first slave of fugees from

the diaspora, sworn to a life of labour

But then you’re the settled son, setting sale of the warden club type,

the party all night, the wealthy, the wide, the one of the intellects,

the jet-set, the luxury drug den, the sex, the sound of the six figures safety

net

How you gonna get by little black boy?

On the backstreet behind the

2005, off the church

Wonder whether you’ll be a big man before christ comes back

Off your own carbon flat

Finance strays and the way out

From the friend to audition out the dirt on the stays

To the silver spoon pals, policism, perly gates

Devious to angels, but both are your enemies, why escape?

Why climb when it was the funk and the ground that gave you your shine in the

first place

But then will it get you out of your parents, to a of your own, and a place you

can call your home

Fighting the most hard to cut you a piece of land in the city tat shrink you

while it expends

Got luck, 'cause you had your plans

Maybe so, or we be, and will be working live slaves until we, set we, free