Losing weight so we can go shopping again . . .
NARRATOR
Come on a spree with me, in the shopping sanctuary
We’ll buy what no one needs
Every pound we’ve not got, we’ll spend on luxuries
And shitty deals to shut us up
CHORUS
In the Great Big Sell-off
In the stink of afternoon, a baboon in his steel box
Offers to break my fingers off, as I curse him as I cross ~
He works for the masters of money,
There’s a sale on and he’s in a hurry ~
With half the species gone already
It’s an “extra special” feeding frenzy
So have yourself a drink, grab another plate
The beast that feeds on mincemeat says,
“What you need is some vacuous temptress
To tempt you like the adverts . . .”
The diners look on in stylised bleakness
Scraping their food off of axe heads
NARRATOR
Regardless of what’s going on
The grey-faced tramp comes lolloping along,
Drooping inside hell’s extravaganza,
Beard stuck out like a mildewed sponge
He howls and sneers through pristine windows
Blaring his soul like a megaphone:
TRAMP
Welcome to the Pleasuredome!
NARRATOR
But unable to persuade, to get what he wants (whatever that was),
He stumbles off, leaving the diners outside the restaurant
To stare in disgust as he drags his carcass, gnarled and gurning,
Singing “Get off the street, ’cos I’ve got a job
CHORUS
“. . . at the Great Big Sell-off!”
TRAMP
I wanna be high, when it’s my turn to die
They’ll sell it all, by and by ~
When they finish up the forests
Where’ll be left to hide?
NARRATOR
They gobble up each new purchase
As the world melts before their eyes . . .
*
NARRATOR
The sellers sell on at the great big sell-off ~
Soon we shall be stuffed with stuff/
A casino wheel speeding up/
Or starving in the midst of surplus/
Templates from the shopping circus . . .
Who creates this madness lit up by adverts?
CHORUS
The Great Big Sell-off
NARRATOR
In Sponsor’s Row, where anything goes
Classic art has turned to logos ~
With tattooed graphics to join the matrix
People mimic the gimmick of themselves ~
And with everything else flying off the shelves
The Earth too is going cheap in the sales . . .
NARRATOR
The great big sell-off continues apace
All hail to the human race
Grabbing at trinkets wherever they can ~
In the colossal trade-off, delusion and gain,
Always on a knife edge, to evenly split us up
We beg for products of no relief . . .
Along endlessly updated precincts
We dream of what’s gone, in simulation
(Buy yourself back on subscription)
CHORUS
Here in the Great Big Sell-off . . .
And you in your portly daze
Talk about a living wage
As if doling out for children;
Or rent us your tunnel vision
*
TRAMP + CHORUS
They drive our rents through the roof
Then call us spongers to boot . . .
Please sell me a new excuse
To be a coward!
TRAMP
I see beyond the dust of their gleaming towers
FARMER’S VOICE
GET OFF LAND!
We don’t want your rags or smell around ~
These idle trappings that drag you down
Will sell well down the river . . .
OTHER FARMER’S VOICE
Sellers may turn in their accounts later
When the Earth’s core is in liquidation
And human teeth and hair
Are up for consideration . . .
CHORUS
When they divide up the boats,
Losers shall be trussed up like goats
Or help lords reinforce their moats
NARRATOR
Ghettos in the North East
To be bulldozed over cliffs
After they’ve asset-stripped . . .
CHORUS + TRAMP
And when the last buyers have brought it all in,
When the gluttons have swallowed it up ~
Dead ducks float past gold-plated yachts.
Did they ever get what they want?
NARRATOR
When the meat puppets have their funnels
Stuck in the sludge-bucket of money,
When you think it’s all funny ~
What else can you sell me?
CHORUS
The Great End-of-it-all, end-it-all Jolly
FARMER’S VOICE [posh]
Mind gobbling folly! . . . The, err . . . [losing interest]
CROWD
. . . The Great Big / can’t wait! . . .
Their great . . . Big Great . . .
Hypnotic . . . de-humanised . . .
Ss-ss . . . Sod-all . . .
Sell Off . . .
————————————————————————
© 2021 Pete Gioconda & Black Cat Communications
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