Talk is so very cheap about the hell you suffer when you’re really poor

Yet western young  people know nothing about what it is to be unsure

When the next mouthful of food might arrive, or water to slake that thirst

Then the ultimate question of life and death, and who you should put first

Young people, looting and burning so freely understand nothing of genuine need

Caught up in the power of mindless destruction, their idiocy fuelling their greed

Let them be transplanted to drought-stricken lands where survival is a matter of luck

Let them be deprived of all they hold dear, will they pick themselves up from the muck?

Too easy, too long have these young people had it, never truly put to the test at all

Plenty to feed their rebellious egos, no reason for them to think they might fall

Prey to the vultures that wear the same hoodies, preaching their message of hate

Kids get caught up, start thieving and burning, then suddenly it is too late

This moronic minority, proud of itself for the endless despair their action cause

Care nothing that people might get hurt. Never take one single moment to pause

And reflect on the damage, the pain and the loss the senselessness of the whole thing

They simply want to rob the latest mobile phone, to chant their hate, to dance and sing

As they in the in the glow of burning shops, and revel in all of that unholy mess

Unwilling to spare a momentary thought for the victims, simply not caring less

Yet how would it be if they were the ones being burned out, beaten and trashed?

Would they feel they were being victimized, or carry on unabashed?

If only these young vandals could be transported by great prison ships,

To places where they would lucky if the means to survive passed their lips

Perhaps if you planted them squarely in trouble, with nought but their wits to get by

They would soon learn the only important ambition is finding a way not to die.

Sympathy for the starving we all can feel, for such a fate is hard indeed

But when a young thug gets hurt in fighting, we all think let them bleed

Priorities seem to be all screwed up, the young feel their voice is not heard

But we all suffer, when times are tough, their protests are simply absurd.

The only way they will be made to listen to reason is justifiable force

Hopefully none will die, but if they do, it’s collateral damage of course

And if truth be told, the only ones who’ll care will be that mum and that dad

Who had no idea that their precious child could possibly be so bad.