Rose walks down the back streets, always alone
On her sixteenth birthday she ran from her home,
Something to do with her family life, drunken abuse threats with a knife.
Learned to steal money so she could eat, presents from strangers bought clothes shoes for her feet.
Classed as a thief when she was finally caught, sent straight to prison,
For there is no place for the lost.
So its time for the people together and join, In making things change when the systems gone wrong, If its State Institutions and the whole things gone bad,
Is the working class laughter a plea from the sad.
When the structure is rotten and it starts at the top, the foundation crumbles and the balloon it will pop.
I was told that Rose died alone in that cell, why she gone done it no-one can tell,
The coroner said an O.D. took her life, not the abuse threats from the knife.
No-one was guilty the case it was closed, they just burned her body along with the clothes,
A man from the Church that preached her sad fate, saw that no-one had come or her friends were just late. Robert Marshal