They're using skateboards as spastic chairs
|
For the legless fuckers who fought your affairs,
|
They're moulding babies' dummies with a permanent smile
|
Keep the bleeders early in rank and file.
|
They're giving you a chance to be a plastic wrap,
|
Around the doggies' meat can full of fucking crap.
|
They're making little dollies, they tell you "it's a boy,"
|
Baby brother tender love to bring you lots of joy.
|
They're making plastic families, all neighbourly folk,
|
So she can dress and wash them, what a fucking joke.
|
|
Teaching Little Johnny to shoot a gun,
|
"A terrific way", say father, "to get to know your son."
|
Spare parts, body parts, I'm somebody.
|
Ever seen the legs and arms of some poor squaddy?
|
Signs in the food stores, advertising meat,
|
Beef blade, chuck roast, last you all the week.
|
They're telling you you like it, you're saying that you do,
|
They don't have to force it and tell you how to chew.
|
You swallow it whole, without a fucking squeak,
|
Sitting there quietly up they creep.
|
You think you're fucking different, you think it's you and them,
|
If they asked you a question, you'd ask them when.
|
You think you're hard done by, but you just want the same,
|
Chicken thighs, human thighs, it's all the same old game.
|
Well, you made the choice, money, sex and crime,
|
Tight little egos asking for the time.
|
Well I ain't got it, you can sit in your pit,
|
Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit.
|
Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit.
|
Middle class, working class, all a load of shit.
|
|
-----------------
|
Time Out
|
Crass |