“LEISTON PRESSURE CUT”

Pressure on the town but we bite back raw,
Leiston stand firm while they swing landlord law.
Rent raised, hope crushed — but we ain’t gon’ fall,
We the storm on the coast, we the grit in the jaw.
Fight back! Fight back! Boots locked on the ground —
When the rich take the crown, we gon’ tear it down.


---

Yo,
Leiston feel heat from the cracks in the street,
Ever since Sizewell C came stompin’ its feet.
Landlords smell cash like blood in the rain,
Jack rent sky-high just to double their gain.
Workers drive miles, sleep stacked in a room,
Danger pay danglin’ while they walk toward doom.
But the locals get crushed by the price of the place,
Minimum wage life slapped hard in the face.

Ten years on the job, same shift, same lane,
But the cost of a room hit harder than pain.
Supermarket aisles see broke hearts freeze,
While the bosses count notes like they harvest trees.
People point at the plant like it’s all to blame,
But the greed been here long before that name.
Agencies cut wages, snatch pounds like thieves,
Profit off sweat while the town still grieves.

Locals want a chance but the doors stay locked,
One slip in the past and your future gets blocked.
Drug test, breath test — your whole life scanned,
One wrong move and you out of the plan.
Benefits pay rent ‘cause the cost too steep,
Folks scared to move out — they’d fall in the deep.
Landlords raise prices with a predator grin,
While the poorest pray rent don’t bury them in.
But a small-town fire never dies in the cold,
Pressure make steel, and steel turn bold.
Leiston ain’t silent — it’s breathin’ in rage,
Ready to snap out the cage they made.
Push people too long, they gon’ push back twice,
‘Cause a broke man hungry cut deeper than ice.
And the town stand tough when the world seem grim —
A united small place still can break the whole limb.
[HOOK]
Pressure on the town but we bite back raw,
Leiston stand firm while they swing landlord law.
Rent raised, hope crushed — but we ain’t gon’ fall,
We the storm on the coast, we the grit in the jaw.
Fight back! Fight back! Boots locked on the ground —
When the rich take the crown, we gon’ tear it down.