lethal error
Man, but he was a pain
in the arse, all that overinflated arrogance
and a concentration on perversity
and pain he could inflict for his own gain.
All the same if you ask me,
he thinks the"sun shines out of his own, individual tree
and that the leaves are solid gold, 100% accurate,
and ringed with nice tall ladders he can climb,
to touch Me, don't you know, get leverage
on a penthouse or a stupendous
bank balance, whichever comes quicker.
It was all percentage uptake, high stakes at the Board,
and he stared at the wrong kind of words all day,
and talk talk talk into fibre optic cables, loudly,
and tap tap tap (no typing skills, all one finger jobs)
and the world shrivelled
to a stock and share price, all netted and precise,
a flicker of interest in the eyes
as soon as the price of money was published,
hourly now, just in case he missed something crucial.
And it's all leather upholstery and the smooth ride,
no bumps, no demands, she
turns a treat, helps you round
those bends, keeps your speed up man.
Home at night to the wife? (Get a life!)
No, no, it's all two thousand quids worth of stereo -
CD equpment I mean -
(for the times they are a-changing)
yeah, and black ash furniture to match.
And life becomes a Dino de Laurentis:
all slow camera angles and
nice lines. Good suits you know.
Oh yes, and travel, broadens the mind, all those hotels
and plane food - one large jet lag in the gut.
But wait till he's 40, he'll be on the skids then,
thrown out on his arse with no pension
(and no friendly face to get close to)
loads of wrinkles, but bent in the mind,
all hidebound and sub-contracted out.
And do I care? Well, yes, really, I do.
But I have to tend my own tree,
I can't water yours too,
and at least mine's growing. Try tears.
Try breathing fresh air.
Throw away that tie and take a hike buddy,
I tell you, it's the only thing to do.
And one more thing - you know
if I hadn't designed the whole scene,
I'd be really quite depressed.
I guess it's just a question
of overproduction ...
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