Imagine, for a moment, you have flu twenty-four-seven
You have walked non-stop from Bolton to Leigh
You’re shattered, so tired, lethargic and weak
All that you want to do is curl up and sleep.
Imagine, for a moment, you walked part of the way in bare feet
Constant pain in your joints from pounding the streets
Your muscles are aching from head down to toe
You move like a snail, your one speed is slow.
Imagine, for a moment, as a Christian seeing a church vandalised
Your memories wantonly destroyed, and nobody seems to care
Anger, hot flushes, your faith tested with tears and cold sweats
You worry about vandalism, your security and are unable to eat.
Imagine, for a moment, you live all alone and nobody cares
And your home is in a no-go area of Leigh
Put all this together, take away your money and dignity
There’s no way you can get warm in a town when there’s ice on the streets.
It’s not imagination, you’re a pensioner in Leigh.
B Welch
Leigh
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