We all just wanted to get away

From these streets that left their mark

Troubled souls with all to say

No one weeps up in these parts

Emotionless soldiers encoded by road

People die for this post code

Covered in disregard

Accents with matches that light up their fags

Cup of tea that is steaming getting cold by the ash

We are moulded by every landscape of this grey scolded land Abandoned factories where the jobs used to be

Windows with newspaper tapped to the beams

A concrete jungle’s a cycle

A wasteland of dreams

I notice smoke in the air in the winter

I grew up in the smog where the hopeless roam with their stories untold Where the broken fail to get out of what hindered

Their caught in the fold of emotionless scold

And we’ve all been there where the lonely among us search the streets to find purpose lost on the surface when all else is hindered

I grew up in view of the villa ground where the brokenness is what lingers

I’ve known many young men get lost to the same old cyclical life getting splintered

It’s dog eat dog out here after nine the cyclical crime the abysmal nights where the value of life is dismally shy

Here’s my story to add to the picture

I was 12 years old when a knife was held to the base of my neck in the night

Hear my Mum shouting over the guys in the background fearing the worst for my life

I’ve lost friends to these roads, as goriness moulds

But the sense that these old post codes mean something to die for, is all a lie for

These young men’s lives are eternally sold

Another statistic on charts and data analytics

They’ve got families weeping eternally grieving the Mother’s lives are just crippling

This wretched path is a road well worn for communities bracing the stabbings and eulogies

These festered maps of these road are morbidly changing the lives of communities

We all just wanted to get away

From these streets that left their mark

Troubled souls with all to say

No one weeps up in these parts

Emotionless soldiers encoded by road

People die for this post code

Covered in disregard

On the dangerous side of the council estate

There’s lads screaming out for their life

Where grief is evident but it’s hiding away in the corners of feeling when finding a fight

To survive, these teens reporting to life in prison or a mortuary fate Aligning decisions with a nihilistic vision that’s deprived by a system that holds them in place

16 years old loathing the world

I was mixed in urban devotion all told

I was fixed on herb homegrown from a guy that was fresh out of pen from a burglary fold

I was smoking away everyday like an pearl

That image inspired new relations

On occasions, for a statement

That was bleeding the time I wasted

Communities bleed from the inside out when the children are losing their lives in vein

Unity weakens with blood that is spilt over nothing but codes and the area name

On the road there are reckless youths that are wasting away their potential to say

They’ve got one over the ops’ down the road from their government post code council estate

If only togetherness wove into the fabric of those who are beefing away Comrade will grow between areas slowly merging communities torn by the hate

I just know that there’s lads on road with their life ahead of them but their just wasting away

Commonality of struggle not a fallacy of hustle but divide and conquer is alive they say

Postcode Grief, Postcode grief

We all just wanted to get away

From these streets that left their mark

Troubled souls with all to say

No one weeps up in these parts

Emotionless soldiers encoded by road

People die for this post code

Covered in disregard