Artist: Plan B Album: Ill Manors Song: Pity the Plight Typed by: jostmatt at bluewin dot ch [ INTRO: John Cooper Clarke ] Picture the fates of young fellows Too long abed with no sleep With their complex romantic attachments Oh look on their sorrows and weep They don't get a moment's reflection There's always a crown in their eye Pity the plight of young fellows Regard all their worries and cry Their Christian mothers were lazy perhaps Leaving it up to the school Where the moral perspective is hazy perhaps And the climate's oppressively cruel Give me one acre of cellos Pitched at some distant regret Picture the fate of young fellows And their anxious attempts to forget [ VERSE 1: Plan B ] These are the tears of a thug like murky water Cryin tears as clear as mud for his father's daughter His half sister, he felt obliged to support her Since her mum was poor and her dad died even poorer Separated until she was eight years old He knew as soon as he saw her that he adored her So now he's payin for blood with a borer And an automatic weapon, Smith & Wesson That split a fuckin hole in your chest length He's been lookin to corner The perpetrators responsible for her killing Now that he's finally got them where he wants them Blood will start spilling The atmosphere in the air tonight is chilling The blanket of stars above their heads in the sky feels like a ceiling Slowly crushin down on them as the terror starts progressin That leaves the youngest of the two open to his suggestion Only thirteen years old, a pubescent adolescent About to learn a very harsh and depressin lesson [ VERSE 2: Plan B ] These are the tears of a wanna-be thug Cryin tears as thick as blood cause his elders set him up To take the fall and now he's stuck with no way of gettin out Cause even if there was a way he'd still want to vent his anger out Without a doubt these street are rife with corruption Young minds get corrupted and so easily fucked with Only leads to destruction in the end, false assumptions That people have your back makes you believe they're your friends Although some represent, no one can be trusted One double-O percent cause some thugs will go to lengths To get revenge Even if it means manipulatin youths to carry skengs And do the dirty work for them The kind of work for men The route to the dark is passed Not impressionable young children that never had a chance Growin up in these manors most are doomed from the start Cause the minds of their peers are as ill as their hearts [ OUTRO: John Cooper Clarke ] Picture the fates of young fellows Too long abed with no sleep With their complex romantic attachments Oh look on their sorrows and weep They don't get a moment's reflection There's always a crown in their eye Pity the plight of young fellows Regard all their worries and cry