A song fragment. I wrote it in a couple of minutes then ran out of ideas. Maybe someone could develop it? I’ll add the stems in case they’re useful. The lyric goes:

Walkin thru the streets where I grew up,
Decay decay;
Half the shops are boarded up, all the folks seen better days.
There’s a guy with a bottle, a blanket and a dog;
Some brawny tattooed bruiser is beating on her sprog [i.e. child].

And my mind slips away, back to a sunny day,
When England was OK and you came out to play,
And your Ma made us tea, white bread and margarine,
We thought it was supreme, sang “Yellow Submarine” all day!