The excitement of Christmas,
The possibilities of this world! Yeah!!
If only childhood mindsets
Were eternal and wrapable as gifts
but they are not!
They say addiction’s not the problem
more like a board to surf them!
And therapy’s just dandy
But you gotta deal with the arseholes who’ve not been!
And so I sleep, and I dream,
on the night before Christmas Eve.
And it’s a weird one.
Maybe I’d done drugs, Maybe I’d not
(not your business!)
but I am now stood surfing on an ironing board,
Extended higher than it should be,
Balanced boldly on a lion’s back.
exploring my dream world’s freedom and beauty,
but in the distance, I see the chaos of the city.
Christmas eve morning I wake to find a junkie
Sleeping on my sofa. He had my full consent,
despite his afflictions,
Was a peace full individual.
That could not afford life’s rent
My day of work passed and went,
Taxes paid like poor folk milked.
wrapped injustice and discontent
I cracked open four cans of Diet Coke
placed them on my cooker—
An odd protest indeed.
Somethings not right with you Mr Wilson!!!!!!
So I went and turned each and every light on
(For it’s the season to be wasteful).
I left my flat in Reading town
After acting out these random acts of disapproval.
Headed down the Purple Turtle
For liver cell disposal!
Oh Yeah!
People fighting in the KFC,
And it’s only seven on Christmas Eve.
Another five hours till peace and goodwill—
If we all on masse believe
That Christmas lives within our hearts
And not the hearts of ruling thieves!
The government cut the benefits,
Gave tax breaks to the rich.
Advertisers sold us presents,
Increased our consumer itch
To always be wanting better—
When not shown the real cost
Of children mining lithium,
Or factory workers owned like fucking robots.
The boom and bust of discontent,
A desire for material things,
Shining bright ’neath Christmas lights
As we lose what honest living brings.
For now, I just want booze in my blood,
A buzzing in my brain,
A belly full of laughs,
And ethical cocaine.I want peace wrapped in a ribbon,
I want exploitation gone.
I want freedom rung for Palestine,
A shiny new iPhone,
A better way for all done wrong
Peace of heart, a truer song!
I want arms dealers to become doctors
Of body, mind, and soul.
For politicians to escape the puppet strings
Of the corporate gods that stole
The transparency of information
That should let every person choose
To be content with less
If peace and pure compassion
Were the policies pursued.
People fighting in the KFC,
And it’s only seven on christmas Eve.
And then there’s me
Staring back in history,
I want to understand people like
Freud’s cousin, Bernays,
To grasp his motivations,
And from whom he got his pay.
To manipulate our consumption
That’s now become part of Christmas day
As we become enslaved
To wage a war amongst ourselves
As we passively become aggressors
To the lower pyramid tiers.
Like gods to sweatshop labourers,
Farmed to make us feel complete,
Whilst empowering our suppressors.
Looking up,
I want to know how the Rockefellers
Got control of all the oil
Hijacked western medicine,
And the banks that now bankroll
The media machine that makes us feel
We deserve a state of malcontent.
To split, divide, and conquer—
Force toil and unfair rent.
My hope feels almost spent.
My drunken mind spun tight in circles,
Like when studying psychology.
How can you help the ones that care
The ones that lose their sanity
In such a messed up and corrupt society?
The rat park experiment shows
We will choose drugs until we die
If our environment’s impoverished
Our conscious minds won’t try
To take the purer path,
To choose an enlightened way.
And so, with question after question,
I head for Christmas Day
I am Stuck within
This consumer rat parade
That I alone can’t fix,
As the pied piper leads me on
To seize fake happiness
From the pirates beyond my shores
That profit from my weakness.
They advertise, hijack my soul,
Strip my spirits with their liquors,
Inject confusion and numb the pain inside my veins,
Mixed with sentiments of giving.
Whilst I treat myself to poison
but still I question am I living
People fighting in the KFC,
And it’s only seven on christmas Eve.
It was the night before Christmas.
And on return to my gaff,
I have four Coke cans on my cooker
And a fully lit flat.
and I’m drunk, and I’m restless,
And I’ll do it again.
keep leaving clues
That I clearly want change.
4 coke cans on my cooker
4 coke cans on my cooker
The excitement of christmas!
Oooh what a rush!
