TALBOT

TALBOT
Peter Sokolowskyj: 31st March 2021

Fred, Matt, Tom and poor old Albot,
Wait to die in the street outside the Talbot.
Chat daily drinking hostel tea in the street,
A routine that’s long been their daily treat.
Hanging out for meals sometimes are rough  
Often complain of being sick from that stuff.
Slopped on a plate tasting far worse than shit.
Out of date food conditioned to, now used to it.
Say but a word mate, and you’re out the door,
Those who complain they kicked out for sure.
Hostile cold staff competing for their their job.
Paid far to well for treating them as some slob.
It’s a lottery if someone accidentally care
Plastic smiles from of rubber staff beware
Each day the same, tomorrow brings nothing new
Those boys have nothing and bugger all to do
They care nothing about living only just to die
Nothings left anymore to do or for them to try
Who wants them? when they are all used up.
Tossed out in the streets like some paper cup.
Who on the pension can afford such high rent?
Bored so they drink is where the money is spent
Simply just because those days are too long
Nobody cares and that’s what’s so wrong
So many government cuts slashed everywhere
Charities scrubbed activities now they’re unfair
Liberal Government cruelty slashing Medicare
They are all sick & dying to why they rot there
Liberal Government absolution rich no more care
A burden on society so let them die there.
Waiting their time out only just to die
Rich folks pass by don’t even say hi’
Fred, Matt, Tom and poor old Albot.
Rot there to die at the steps of the Talbot