Berrylands Station

In between a massive pile of shit
And a beautiful suburb where rich people live
Sits a little train station from which you can take
A journey to London, if willing to wait
A little longer than either of those right next door
Which leads me to wonder what this place is for

‘Cause Berrylands station’s an odd little place
At the end of my road, it exists in lost space
Surrounded by the best in middle class luxury
Right next to the factory that processes poo. And pee.
Sorry. But I thought it was funny,
And besides I love that in this place of such money
Where anyone lesser is forced to disappear
(I might have to leave by the end of the year)
There remains this blemish, this promise unfulfilled
Something that must be killed, before they can rebuild
Something that shows that this town was once more
Is still more than a dull place that no one can afford
And what better than an eyesore, to defy such progress
As all around London, I see my friends less and less
Somehow ineligible to share in the success, the recovery
But hey, we were poor kids that got born in Surrey

So often, I think of my neighbours, offering advice
Oh so nicely enticing us out, ‘cause we lower house prices
I fall back on one thought to hold my frustration
I think thank god they have to go through Berrylands Station