A work in progress...

I look outside and the rain batters down

Knowing soon that the grey clouds will part with the town

And the sun’ll start blazing when it comes back around

Sucking the puddles into the sky for another round

It’s pouring on a culture which is repeating

And retreating up into its guts

Forcing our imaginations into a rut

Making them steadily simmer instead of erupt

A corrupt system of arts

We’re not encouraged at the start

Told that all the great ideas that come from the heart

Have all been used

When I know for a fact they’ve been exploited and abused

Cut to: a film production meeting, and the world’s gone beserk

As they just seem interested in doing less work

“We need some new ideas”

“How about instead of having new ideas, we just remake a load of South East Asian horror films?”

“Brilliant. Rest of the day off”

 It’s a fucking ruse

Cheating us out of our ambition

A mission to slow fission and break us into submission

Because when minds have nowhere to roll

They’re easier to control

Even more disgusting

So much so they’re starting to reek

Are clubs like Favela Chic

Shanty towns with open sewers

Below the poverty line

Are transformed into a drunk factory line

Where the privileged can wine and dine

And avoid the world’s troubles

In a bubble of trendy beats

And clueless rhythmic feet

If it’s gotta be this way

At least have the balls to go all the way

You might call this is too far

But how about: Auschwitz Bar

Where you can be spoilt and pampered

To get the real experience of a concentration camper

Bouncers are dressed as SS guards

And there’s buy one get one free Hasidic hats at the bar

But they’ll never do this

They’ll consider it too rotten

Probably cos favela’s aren’t in the news as often

It’s like spraying our eyes with mace

Blinding our choices

Forcing cling film over our face

Suffocating our voices

Until we’re just a wasting copy of a copy of a copy

Wearing a remembrance poppy

Because it’s polite and a nice shade of red

Rather than to remember the plight of so many wasted dead

And when Catherine Tate features Tony Blair

And Coco The Eaton Clown is Londontown’s mayor

You know that irony is keeping us in line

And what we need is a little honesty from time to time