The Giro's Run Out Again

Sixty measly quid To last me a whole week A victim of Broken Britain My misery’s at its peak Stripped of my dignity Powers on the wane Surviving on frozen fish fingers The giro’s run out again Three quid on that lousy nag No sweeties for the wean My 4-1 shot pipped at the post The giro’s run out again Resistance is futile Who listens when we complain? No manifesto for the masses The giro’s run out again In the bleak midwinter British Gas pile on the pain Prices up by 18 per cent The giro’s run out again Suicide seems the only way out As I walk home in the rain When will this misery ever end? The giro’s run out again