Not Like Us

They’re not like us
They spit in the street
They fish for the plate
And you can’t tell what they’re saying
They’re not like us.

They’re not the same as you and me
Their food is bland
They shout in public
They have mobile phones and expensive-looking trainers
Not like us.

They’re not like us –
He told me so
Him there, with the newspaper under his arm
And the rosette on his lapel
We believe him
Because he is like us.

He is the same colour as us
(Although some of them are too)
He lives on an estate like we do
(Although his is rather larger and he owns it)
He’s from the same country as us
(Although his taxable income lives somewhere else)
He doesn’t live off handouts like they do
(Bonuses, dividends and trust funds don’t count).

They’re not like us
They send their money home
They do what they can for themselves and their families
They sell themselves to the boss
Whereas we … us …

Them …
They have vices. And virtues
They laugh, they love, they worry
They’re human. They’re trying
Maybe they are like us after all.

But I’m not so sure about him.

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