They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
Here, Larkin switched into something close to Romanticism, introducing a simile that underlines how dramatic the misery of life is, at every new birth. He throws us into the depths of futility, unable to escape the depths of misery. 
 
 At this point, we are learning much about his grim mindset. Moreover by likening the erosion of the human happiness, to something made unstoppable by forces of nature (the metaphor of a coast being eroded by the sea) he suggests that although the process is detrimental, it is also natural and inevitable.
This Be The Verse x