Not fit for purpose

And all their other clichés

Batter down the airways

Assuring us that greed is good

That we can borrow and never repay

Seeping this repetitive, lying shit

Deep into the soul of the nation,

Leaving me marooned

Growing old with the weariness

That travels through the blood:

As I try to pass by these nets

Of race, nationality, class, religion

But am dragged back

Into the fray

Don't relate or cogitate

Be swift to deny 

The authenticity

Of the free-to-view or sky

Interview, Vox Pox, like:

Yer, I lease my Merc

I'm doing well

(the wife don't think

so, but what the hell).

I go with the flow

I'm white

I'm straight

I pay my taxes

Call me a bigot?

Yer if you dare,

But I tell yer what:

I don't fucking care.