British Countdown

London I walk every day under your heavy skies the grey lid that covers your people. I walk your filthy streets and step past chicken bones dog excrement vomit urine stains cigarette ends empty Stella cans pizza boxes all discarded by your selfish people who treat your crumbling streets with contempt. London your pall of brown smog covers me yet your cars get bigger minds of the drivers smaller every year. London what have you left to offer? You welcome the poor and treat them like animals you revel in your insular cockney aggression. London your Empire is gone your docks are empty your trading floors filled with vacuous egotists intent on grabbing what they can your football grounds full of glory-seeking merchandise-clad sheep desperate to see a team of foreigners provide some glory. London try a smile instead of a snarl. London try to walk for once instead of pumping out more CO2 from your 3 litre petrol engines. Londoners stop gorging yourselves stop furrowing your brows and open your eyes.