Voyeurism on Speed

Here you go, written just now….

By me, Danny.


Fuck your TV,

it’s voyeurism on speed.

The centre of modern family life,

but cause of all kinds of strife.

Nobody need talk any more,

watch teen bitches act like whores.

Hush up, I’m trying to listen.

Don’t those 4k OLED HD pixels glisten?

Stop talking and pay more attention.

More indoctrination than I could mention.

I paid a lot for this set, how ungrateful can you be?

Look, son, look! She has her tits out for the nation to see!

Showing the life you could have, making you depressed.

Fed up, it makes you cry, but you still watch, stressed.

Hey did you see [random celebrity] too?

Obsessing over fake lives, but look where it got you…

I fantasise about creeping in the night,

pussyfooting, to do something I feel right.

Tiptoe down wooden steps, hammer in hand.

Put an end to the colour sucking machine so bland.

One brutal strike in its sleeping black screen,

the projector of filth and all things obscene.

Cracked glass falling to the floor,

no more red button to press if you want more!

For having different opinions they laugh at me,

but I laugh at them, all grouchy, when they have no TV.

It’s not addictive they say,

mind melted away after viewing all day.

Oi you, put it back on Channel 4, wait your turn!

Everybody loves the lunatic’s lantern.



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