My city has a lot of faces. Some can be found in forgotten places. Comfortably sound with a lot of graces. The sun could be down on this hungry town but in London he found him a shot of greatness. My city has a lot of faces. Some can tell you what a loss of faith is. Before we hated people we were all created equal then we learnt to despise the strife and forgot that variety is the spice of life. Look around you. Constantly standing on the brink of history watching news readers link in mystery. Even though a few reporters taught us to be cautious cause they stink of this disease called inconsistency. See my city has a lot of faces. Four of them belonging to Big Bear and the rest of them hidden behind big business and big brother ensures all of them are monitored with them. Under social tensions you can see London languages. 30% minorities. 300 languages. Differences. Race and class it's all enormous but the common ground we found surpasses all the borders. If you meet a rich man, ask his all his daughters, all his sons. We all live once. And who among us wouldn't want all of his funds? That's rhetorical but I don't need call and response to know. That's how Londoners are from time to time. Only got the time to grind and whine. Technically I'm from an elegant city but I'm not the kind to whine and dine. I grew up around lots of crap and vine and kine. You might have heard about the rocks, the grime, the hyphen chain. It's not just cockney rhyme and slang. We got plop, plop, plop, plop, plop. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Awkward interactions which most don't force. Children navigating through postcode boards. In estates with the least funding, look at the state of East London. It's a paradox. Witness economy blooming for the have-a-lucks. What a sight to see, we could swap a nice city. Join us in moving along to the groove of the sun. Groove of the sun. Groove of the sun. Groove of the sun. 273 times the wealth of the poorest. Yet your door is next door to the extra poor. We look on the bright side, but we're vexed for sure. Like all we have to ourselves is sex and war. And a lot of diversity. So what could I personally hate a complexion for? I see different coloured hands outstretched for more. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Must. Groovin' the sun. Groovin' the sun. Groovin' the sun. Groovin' the sun. Groovin' the sun. Groovin' the sun. Groovin' the sun... massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive massive