They say I’m free, to watch TV, to be mesmerised by crap,

To listen to the radio, to more dumb shit, to Taylor Swift and rap,

Art has long gone missing, and in its place the clones,

Their putrid songs, their banal films, that crush the mind and bones,

Ah, give me back The Beatles, Brecht, and yes, the Rolling Stones,

Jacques Brel’s alive and well they say, yet thanks for Juan Martin,

Music to rouse the people, and words to make them think,

Not these 3 note bums who stop all thought, who serve the Man,

And drive the rest of us to drink,

For thinking’s out of fashion, for that there is no app,

The world is lost and panicked, since none can read a map,

But then where to go in any case but to a future bleak,

And if you say, “just wait a sec,’ they make you out a freak,

As the freaks themselves build atom bombs to guarantee the peace,

In a world at war for centuries, the jokers never cease,

It’s getting hot, the fires burn, the droughts, and rains galore,

Still they say, “did we do that, can’t be, it’s just so much a bore,”

So they sit there doing nothing, while they polish up their guns,

For superstition’s on the loose, armed with ignorance and hate,

While Reason lies there wounded, and few bewail its fate.