I walk the streets
From toilet to toilet
Pulling my bucket and mop.
I think of my children
At home: alone.
With no one to care for them.
A drunk man throws a beer can at me.
It hits me so I fall.
But I have to get up: I must carry on
Quickly I run to the next toilet
Trying not to hear the laughing, shouting.
This job is the worst but I can do nothing else
No qualifications,
Three children. No fathers.
And a flat I can't afford.
Somebody's been sick in a cubical I feel i will too
But I get down on my hands and knees
And clear up.
I think of what I might have been.
If people had helped me: if people had cared.
But nobody helps and nobody cares.
I have to work: I have to earn money.
To give my children the life I never had,
So they wont end up like me.
So on I walk,
From toilet to toilet,
Pulling my bucket and mop.
You may laugh and you may joke,
But the tears fall from my eyes,
For I'll be a toilet cleaner for the rest of my life.