God is dead God is dead
oft have these words been said
the dark clouds lower overhead.
Long live the TV superstar
who we worship from afar.
Gold myrrh and lack of commonsense
euros dollars pounds and pence,
the power of prayer now modern myth
miracles quashed by primal fears
stress and screams that no-one hears.
The bread of life will make you hungry
but there's the new superstore
to keep you craving ever more.
Nought to sixty in three seconds,
the lure of power always beckons.
Never mind we have tomorrow
and Eastenders has more sorrow
to compare your life is not so bad
the flowers rot in Asda's car park
a life in plastic blooms to mark.
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