‘In England’s not so green and pleasant land’

I'm not the man I used to be… with a home, a wife a family.
A job, a purpose, integrity a respected pillar of the community.
Now all I have are the streets where I sleep, my bed that's walked upon by a thousand feet.
In England’s not so green and pleasant land.

A look of pity, disgust, avoidance, the odd smile received from people rushing on by. 
I hear the constant judgement in their head… “He’s just after drug money… he’ll soon end up dead.”
I sit here anonymous, a man with no name… tortured daily by feelings of worthlessness, sorrow and shame. 
In England’s not so green and pleasant land.

The patriotic flags that fly high and wide, meant to instill a sense of national pride
give me no comfort from the void inside or alleviate the poverty of the most deprived. 
I served my country; I answered the call. 
Duty done, but there was no one there to catch my fall.

All I want is a place to stay, enough to eat 
to live in a society where the vulnerable can sit or walk safely down the street.
Where people do not have to choose whether to heat or eat or sell their only possessions just to make ends meet.
In England’s not so green and pleasant land.

I want to be treated with dignity and respect, not walked on by, as if I’m hidden, out of sight.
You look away and insist it is because of the choices I made.
You don’t know my story, the reasons for my pain
When really, I was not cared for, from the cradle to the grave. 
In England’s not so green and pleasant land.