Please don’t film me I don’t wish to be
Connected infected much rather rejected
than play any part in your puerile
so called immediacy or Art.
YouTube generation, god give them detention
for anything goes from delivering weak prose
to dispatching old souls
Taboo we may as well strip and replace it with sick
that’s what they say the youth of today
when describing things they consider slick
You see Kubrick got it right
when he let Alex fight
high art, a magician in flight
tried to show where youth
could go, stylised the exaggeration
of self not this crass excuse for reality
Total fucking parody don’t they see?
I don’t want to watch me
I want the greats not some spotty
herbert on skates showing me his estate
I’m sorry but you’re not David Lean
do you know who I mean?
How can anything good,
of worth ever rise
If you all reach for the sky
trampled beneath so many feet
buried in shite something truly
bright ever see the light
You tube generation is that it?
Is that all you’ve got
where’s the fucking plot
melody acting ability
that’s not art I could do better farts
I tell you what lets tweet
and all be like sheep, just
another excuse for attachment.
It’s a bloody phone it’s not
existential no more than a pencil
your freedom of expression
has become my oppression
don’t try to make a star out of me