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Versurile Crass - Nineteen Eighty Bore
Versuri Nineteen Eighty Bore
Who needs lobotomy when we've got the ITV?
Who needs ECT when there's good old BBC?
Switch on the set, light up the screen,
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,
Lost in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it
fact?
Another plastic bullet stuns another Irish child,
But no-one's really bothered, no, 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, slowly going
blind,
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?
Yes, that's right, he was kicked by a cow, 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, confusion, is there anyone left who can
care?
Yes, 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, softly, into your life, you're held in
it's brilliant glow.
Softly, 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.
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