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lirik lagu boro kitchen 4am – skint & demoralised

it’s 4am, he gurns, and he regurgitates the sun
an argument where both sides have already won
he rolls his eyes, and then a cigarette
and then a £5 note
glares at me, emboldened by the outcome of a vote

his fingerprints say steelworks
my fingerprints say coal
the careers advisor pretty much said
“call centre or dole”
this lad and me, we’re a mirror
but it’s well and truly shattered
council estate. teeside
in a kitchen getting battered

he says, “brexit’s fine
britain needs to knuckle down and persist.”
and then he tells me i’m a snowflake
and that food banks don’t exist

i got no money in my pocket
i got no control
no
i got no money in my pocket
i got no control
no

i’m a scare monger. a sore loser
socialism’s f-cked
“it dun’t matter who’s in charge, mate;
they’re all a bunch of crooks.”
warm cans of carling
stubble around us lips
fred perry made the wardrobe
shane meadows wrote the script

worlds apart. polarised. his jaw slowly clenches
social civil war. as always, in the trenches
he doesn’t channel racism. islam. immigration
he talks of being left at sea, drowning in frustration
“listen mate, i agree! a decade sick to death.”
it’s a salty dish to swallow
when austerity’s the chef

folk come and go. they decline to interject
we’re discussing politics;
they’re happy getting wrecked
a carousel of snide retorts
from dehydrated throats
he rolls his eyes, and then a cigarette
and then a £5 note

i got no money in my pocket
i got no control
no
i got no money in my pocket
i got no control
no

- skint demoralised

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