Where are We

When the perfume cloud clears,
and the influx of people
slows to a stream,
and the bustle of life and school dissolves,
where are we now?

As gangs of pent up kids,
ride bikes to rebel
against rules unset,
and throw punches to avoid bruised egos,
where are we now?

And the Brexit house burns
green like an infected wound,
because priveledge is only for
the priveledged that run through our golden streets,
where are we now?

Once the fundings cut so the
wine drunk lawyers wives
have to clean their own homes
raise their kids and paint their nails red,
where are we now?

And the sun sets like blood
thats concrete stained,
and the last train pulls away
to richer quieter better,
and the darkness settles like death,
where are we now?

And my grandad who fought
in the war is sagging,
his arms that once held up a country
now struggle to hold a tea,
and we are left with Iphone cavallries,
where are we now?

Once it all fades,
what are we?
Because all liquid here
runs thicker than blood.