The streets are littered
With broken hearts and glass
And the shattered dreams
Of the many,
Repressed and depressed by the few
Who demand more numbers for their time
So they down tools
And watch with glee
As the pavement’s become scattered with
The flotsam and jettisoned
Ideology from a supermarket nation –
Streets stacked high, getting higher
With old trikes, knotted condoms and
Premium brand packaging from bourgeois kitchens
Litter blows on the easterly
Through the overcast streets
Because some men believe in bank statements
And virtual money
Hoarded for higher purchase big screen TVs
And cars they’ll never own out right.
Kept fat with desire
By a consumer fed mentality
For the things the adverts
And celeb shows tell them they need.
More, always more
Numbers to feed the machine
To pay the desk bondaged
So fatter cats can take their kittens to Disneyland
In lieu of love, cuddles and bedtime stories
From a cartoon character
Falsified land, where dreams come true
But only for the suited monsters
With Mickey Mouse morals
Who mock the celeb drunk prolatariate
Brainwashed by their 52 inch screens
While their kids play in the streets
Littered with refuse they refuse to pick up
Because the union big wigs
Say down tools till city bosses
Pay,pay, pay
More,more,more…
But the black girls
And eastern Europeans -
Who take care of parents
Whose kids don’t care -
Don’t care for numbers
When they pull on trainers
And crusty smiles to walk to work
Over broken glass
As the funk of shit sits over the city
Like acid rain clouds or a drunk uncle
At the Christmas table
Meanwhile…
The cogs on a rusting machine turn
And ten days later protest strikers
Return to work and overtime
Florescent jackets
Sweep, sweep, sweep
And the machine is oiled with numbers
And everyone is happy, again
Pretending the rubbish
Has disappeared or been gobbled
By a Disney monster
Which it has – eventually…
check this for context: The Fresh Stink of Sea Air - M.C. Freshness
With broken hearts and glass
And the shattered dreams
Of the many,
Repressed and depressed by the few
Who demand more numbers for their time
So they down tools
And watch with glee
As the pavement’s become scattered with
The flotsam and jettisoned
Ideology from a supermarket nation –
Streets stacked high, getting higher
With old trikes, knotted condoms and
Premium brand packaging from bourgeois kitchens
Litter blows on the easterly
Through the overcast streets
Because some men believe in bank statements
And virtual money
Hoarded for higher purchase big screen TVs
And cars they’ll never own out right.
Kept fat with desire
By a consumer fed mentality
For the things the adverts
And celeb shows tell them they need.
More, always more
Numbers to feed the machine
To pay the desk bondaged
So fatter cats can take their kittens to Disneyland
In lieu of love, cuddles and bedtime stories
From a cartoon character
Falsified land, where dreams come true
But only for the suited monsters
With Mickey Mouse morals
Who mock the celeb drunk prolatariate
Brainwashed by their 52 inch screens
While their kids play in the streets
Littered with refuse they refuse to pick up
Because the union big wigs
Say down tools till city bosses
Pay,pay, pay
More,more,more…
But the black girls
And eastern Europeans -
Who take care of parents
Whose kids don’t care -
Don’t care for numbers
When they pull on trainers
And crusty smiles to walk to work
Over broken glass
As the funk of shit sits over the city
Like acid rain clouds or a drunk uncle
At the Christmas table
Meanwhile…
The cogs on a rusting machine turn
And ten days later protest strikers
Return to work and overtime
Florescent jackets
Sweep, sweep, sweep
And the machine is oiled with numbers
And everyone is happy, again
Pretending the rubbish
Has disappeared or been gobbled
By a Disney monster
Which it has – eventually…
check this for context: The Fresh Stink of Sea Air - M.C. Freshness
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