Cans and crisp bags blow along the road,

High rise flats a gray, dark, granite cold,

Loads of dark corners, for shadows and fear,

Druggies and Lightning fiends swigging their beer

Thats the way it is!

An estate built for the North of London overspill,

A concrete prison where weakness beats will,

Black bin liners ripped and spewing their loads,

Onto the humps the ramps, speed traps in the road,

Thats the way it is!

So what do good people do when it gets late,

On this run down, gang ruled housing estate,

They all sit at home and they lock up their flats,

No welcome signs on their front door mats.

That’s the way it is!

Dogs roam the streets pissing up posts,

Howling and barking at nothing or ghosts,

Chasing cats or rats or men on their bikes,

Stumpy small dogs have collars with spikes,

Thats the way it is!

A man walks the estate while it is dark,

A gang of thugs see him from the park,

One walks over and headbutts his face,

This is our overspill human race,

Thats the way it is!

While the man kneels down holding his nose,

The chav’s circle round and get very close,

One starts to kick and the others join in,

The man lies unconsious they call it a win.

That’s the way it is!

From behind a curtain someone saw,

The only way to help is by calling the law,

An escorted ambulance takes the man away,

But they have come too late, too late in the day,

Thats the way it is!

The man had died because of this crew,

The chav’s were proud, it’s what they do,

They are living legends on their council estate,

Where newcomers deserve that sort of fate,

That’s the way it is!

These people grow up and don’t change at all,

It’s just now, in the pubs, they have their brawl,

When they have beaten and stuck a glass in a face,

They are living legends again in this awful place,

That’s the way it is!

There is only one way they can get to the top,

In their world it’s all they know, it will never ever stop,

The only respect they will get in their life,

Is to show their mates they can handle a knife,

That’s the way it is!

When they get old to old to fight,

They tell their tales of each drunken night,

So the grand kids think that grandpa is strong,

The culture feeds itself it goes on and on,

That’s the way it is!