Do the people always exist

Where there's no telly

And no place to get pissed

The crops they are sold

I've had a bad year

Their children will starve

And live in fear



All that matters

Never random

Even God-dwellers

Live in cellars

Hi Tech Cities

Such a pity

Life is sterile

Never pretty



Originality

Is there no goal?

Be the same



???

??? big brother

All those ???

There is no other



Nowhere to weep

The masses sleep

In occupations or incubations

All your rumours are on the file

This we say "Don't charge for style"

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