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• Artiste: Million Dead
• Titre: Bovine Spungiform Economics
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The maternity ward Where I was born Was knocked down in the first gulf war To build an airport For housing Allied steel, For upholding ideals, Like a stable petroleum price And consumer choice. Oh Lord won't you buy me Any kind of car- I've walked so far. Our few remaining parks Are being smothered by cinemas And the requisite stock of carparks (Which aren't the same). And our children will rejoice In unbridled freedom of choice Of superstores and different brands of Cultural decay. You only get out what you put in And all that we pay is credence sincere At the altars of competition and desire All choice and no need Makes Jack a dull economist They're selling adspace on The subway walls, And privatizing the tenemant halls- Prophet and cause superseded By profit and loss. They'd have Marshall's mustacioed face Staring down from every public place If they taught honest history in school And if people knew who he was. Oh Lord won't you buy me Any kind of car- I've walked so very Far away from where I began.