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Haunting, intelligent singer-songwriter.

MEDIA MACHINE

MEDIA MACHINE

Did it creep up slowly?
Like cancer upon our nation
Or has it always been
Dripping acid through our stations?
When did we become so callous, cruel, uncaring?
There are no hero’s left
Only gladiatorial spectating
Just like cattle, people standing, staring, filming
The violence on the little screen
Uploading doesn’t make it real
Who really cares what the truth is?
As long as we the first to print.
Who cares who we step upon?
Squash the prowls with our spin and brawn
Fuck rights & wrongs, buts & if’s
This joke of censorship
What the little ones cannot see
Top shelf magazines blackened out
Be-headings on daytime T.V
Avarice knows no boundaries
With the merciless heart of Murdoch
A rich old fool croaking “humble”
Means nothing to me
And hacking into emails
Bugging mobile phones
His paper skin even resembles
The money which he loves
Who really cares what the truth is?
As long as we the first to print.
Who cares who we step upon?
Squash the prowls with our spin and brawn
Fuck rights & wrongs, buts & if’s

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