nineteen eighty bore
crass
who needs lobotomy when we've got the itv?
who needs ect when there's good old bbc?
fantasise and dream about what you might have been
who needs controlling when they've got the cathode ray?
they've got your fucking soul
now they'll fuse your brains away. mindless fucking morons sit before the set
being fed the mindless rubbish they deserve to get. can't switch off big brother
they've lost all will to act
another plastic bullet stuns another irish child
but no-one's really bothered
the telly keeps them mild. they've lost all sense of feeling to the every hungry glow
drained of any substance by the vicious telly blow. no longer know what's real or ain't
they stare into the goggle box while the world goes by
behind. the angels are on t.v. tonight
grey puke fucking shit. the army occupy ireland
but the boot will never fit. was it coronation street? or was it londonderry?
oh it doesn't fucking matter
paul daniels'll keep us merry. yes
i've heard of bobby sands
wasn't it emmerdale farm?
i hope it didn't do him no harm. and wasn't the holocaust terrible
good thing it wasn't for real. of course i've heard of h-block
it's the baccy with man appeal. deeper and deeper and deeper
layer upon layer. illusion
is there anyone left who can care?
the abbey national cares for you. nat west
and securicor. well brings out the branston bren-guns let's spice it up some more. the sweeney are cruising brixton
created another belfast. and j.r.'s advising thatcher on lighting
make up and cast. a thousand camera lenses point at the people's pain
as millions of mindless morons watch the action replay again
the action replay again. softly
you're held in it's brilliant glow. softly
feeding itself on the you you'll never know. you're life's reduced to nothing
but an empty media game. big brother ain't watching you mate
you're fucking watching him.