Are these tears of blundering laughter
Or heckles of contempt
That spirit on these haggard leaders
To rhapsodise our era's curtain calls?
The same who brought us mounting debt and conscientioussness
Which seems only to be healed in the appeasing flouescence
Of 24-hour supermarkets and the purgatory
of weekends spent at home?
Such stifling,nervous coughs
Are heard as responses of
Today's domestic questionnaires.
Gung-ho reformative advances
And calls to "pull up our socks"
Mingled with the state-sponsered fourtune-telling
Rationed out yo boys languishing on the dole.
All which falsely transpires of course,
Intimidatingly revealed as being
About as appealing as vaccum cleaners for the soul
Marketed at the resoulely bored to tears.
Despite our fears
The sun will come streaming again
Through Fir Trees
That decorate contemplative,sheltered lanes.
These last frostbitten years
Seek replacement with halcyon days
In order to suspend dogmatic disbelief.
But lets not get ahead of ourselves
Pessimism is sexy
Even in the most roaring of times
We remained despondent,stroppy and calculated.
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