Tottenham To Toxteth

Let loose the whip and tighten the lip with its reasons for humble cause. And I'm alight in darkened entries shrugging my shoulders to warm my picked pockets with another's shoes. Burning down the towered clouds for the gas chamber streets, why burn the bills whilst flesh is still flamable? And the crier rang out silently. Could only make out the action, of something she was trying desperately the reasons of the destraction. "You're too blind to make out colours which have mixed to make brown. Just a human illusion of light under cover of sound." The cobbles are disrupted and yet its just another cup of tea to watch on with, pathetically.