I Live Here Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

I live here, this exotic non-sense appealing nation,
of a small town with houses called Sailtaire-
I know when I walk these roads, in Yorkshire that Orwell said,
the 'buildings towering popular and bare' or something like that,
walking through West Yorkshire, walking through black air.
I live here, in this historic place which nature inhabits millions of crisp and crunchy faces,
new ones which are illegally tourists pretending to be looking in at our places,
yes you guess, here I live, live here I do, I am living,
did you ever see what I am seeing?
Or are your building in your area not abandoned?
I know if you live in Cornwall or something,
there is lots so see, much more appealing,
and back to my normal stanza which I usually use the type of:
England soon arrives,
this that place of rival,
and under spoken rival speaking,
walking, sleeping, sleep-walking.
Is that there a normal thought?
That the English people should be sleeping?
Or is it a fault of mine,
Where I just imagine everyone is like me,
When they're laughing at me and not with me.