Grey mists live inside my head
As I crawl along the floor to my bed
Finding warm refuge
From the deluge
Of neglect degradation and poverty
Sporadic  nutrition
Non existent healing
All for the price of £200 a week.

We are the twilight people
Existing to the day we die
Neglected heaps of humanity
We wish we’d died years since
We are the forgotten race
Where once we thrived fought and loved
We live in our own excrement
Freeze to the bone even in summer
We are the exploited pensioners
Who’ve fought for the privilege
Of living free, free to die in cold misery
Freezing to death while paying for weaponry
We are the useless expendable old
As we are not productive units
Living at the mercy of con men and thieves
Murderers beaters people you’d never believe
Sitting on soft warm benches in Parliament
We are living in old people’s homes
We are being bled of our savings
We live in a country gone mad for war
Where no one matters where life is hell.