Singing of the Bonesaws
The music industry is lying to you
it is telling you that you are excited
and you ARE excited
and you ARE excited
Or rather you have confused excitement,
with the fear of missing out.
Which is understandable as these two feelings
Focusing, as they do, on the heart and the groin
and ending in a bloody mess - pregnancy tests
and too little sleep.
Our survey says that shouting inanities
in a regional accent is valuable to culture -
look at Eastenders, Soccer AM,
or the queen's speech!
Our survey says paedophiles run the BBC
but look at the alternatives!
Drowning men, clutching at straws through
their bell-end helmets
Sad women, dreaming of being owned by them
Their children, eventual despoilers of high streets
clad head to toe in menstrual blood
Screaming sexual insults into bedroom mirrors
in the sad belief that it will empower them
And it will empower them!
And it will empower them!
At least that's what it says on my cereal packet.
That's what it says on my receipt from the apple store.
(Good lord!)
I cannot identify the bloodied bodies of my loved ones -
they were killed whilst watching a new television show
on the MTV network,
one where Kim Kardashian is chased through woodland
by a giant bear wearing a mask which carries the visage
of recently deceased film director Michael Winner.
The bear has apparently not qualified for a work place
pension and is angry with Daniel Day-Lewis for what he
perceives to be the relative lack of action in
'There Will Be Blood' ..., which he otherwise enjoyed
but found a little precious for his tastes.
Anyway, after twenty minutes of panicked running around
intercut with interviews with friends and other celebrities
the production team behind the show all simultaneously
come to the same horrifying conclusion -
They have wasted the precious gift of life which has been
given to them by science!
They start attacking themselves with the nearest available
objects, breaking off camera tripods to ram them bloodily
into each other's eyes, climbing up the highest branches
of trees to fall face down onto the pulsing earth
The whole time shrieking and screaming with the sudden,
primal vigour of lost souls who have forgotten language,
and seem intent on shouting their black hearts from
their grey ... Semi-erect chests.
They face the pigs
They face the pigs they were
They face the pigs
They face the pigs they were
Anyway, my family members, otherwise enjoying a
restful sunday afternoon spent basking in the
christian lie of a benevolent and loving god,
witness this horror through the prism of their television set
Concentrated howl of psychic and bloodie anguish which
has utterly enveloped the unlikely woodland scene is
transmitted directly into the heart of our living room ...
And it bursts from the screen
And into their eyes and their hearts
And their minds and their tits
And their bits
And it bursts from the screen
And into their eyes and their hearts
And their minds and their tits
And their bits
(I don't mind, why do you?)
And it bursts from the screen
And into their eyes and their hearts
And their minds and their tits
And their bits
(I don't mind, why do you?)
And it bursts from the screen
And into their eyes and their hearts
And their minds and their tits
And their bits
(I don't mind, why do you?)
And it bursts from the screen
And into their eyes and their hearts
And their minds and their tits
And their bits
(I don't mind, why do you?)
And it bursts from the screen
And into their eyes and their hearts
And their minds and their tits
And their bits
... Sobs. Echo. Off their foreheads.