We’ve never been modern.
We’ve been reading the same news
for years, for boring centuries now.
Then, how would you dare scratching your ugly nails
against that dirty ancient blackboard
of your useless solitude?
We’ve never eaten posh stuff,
our shite has always been safe,
their lenses may become rusty
in and out their mouldy cheesy breath.
We’ve carried our burden with joy,
our pond of flesh,
carriageless, weightlesness as it’s been felt,
and all of a sudden,
we’ve reached Wankers’ Junction
just to fly happily over your smelly dead bodies.