My baby was born in a bed With white sheets, machines and heat Travelled home in a car To a three room nest, eats and sleeps Laminate floor to crawl on, t.v. Talks, starts to walk amongst love and security
Goes to school, learns to read an write Probably follows a team with his friends And gets to ride the train Probably fall in love Probably get to fly on a plane Get to work all week and spend what he earns On the high street
He's got doctors, nurses, fireman, churches Kindergartens, wedding bells and jet black hurses Passport, bank card, maybe his own yard Locks and alarms, trinkets and charms Maybe a baby in his arms.
My baby was born on his knee, one of poverty's offspring Can into the world coughing, already full of mama's disease Went back to a flat with no gas, no cash Wrapped in a duvet full of cigarette ash Mama can't get no sleep Baby never quiet enough to eat
Goes to school, learns to steal and fight Probably form a team with hs friends Go steam those trains Fall in love an never trust nobody again Gets to work all week standing in the high street for joe Hustlin' blow