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Your Grandchildren Are Already Fucked (The Silence of Animals)

This song is by Vincent Vocoder Voice and appears on the EP Full Heart, Deaf Ears (2014).

Dance for maya, dance for dreams,
For faked orgasms and hyperreal screams.
Put your palms together for Alzheimer's;
The perfect poetry of Korsakovian slurs.
Dance for decapitations, for needles and spoons,
Chain-smoking grandfathers sat in painted-shut rooms.
Dance for diabetics with the stumps for feet,
The black sunset on a silent street.

Can you feel the wilt of a world atilt?
Your grandparents are teetering on their morphine stilts
And with a little good luck and every best hope
We might last long enough to see the sun explode.

Digging through the landfill on his hands and knees
For a plastic bottle for the new babies
And I'm sure she'll figure out something to please
The hungry men downstairs with the machetes.
Good little puritans born and raised
Making neat little puritans for tidy graves.
So place a ring-o-roses, we all fall down.
All our cuddles turn to huddles as the lights wink out.

Can you hear the wilt of a world atilt?
Your grandchildren are teetering on citalopram stilts
And with everything long snatched, snaffled or sold
You can't work out why the young never looked so old.

Dance for sternums flowering wide
Ballerinas slumped inside
Take a ticket, single file
Cremulators cracking smiles
Bang the table, stamp your feet
(A Pizza Hut, a Pizza Hut!)
Scream for seconds, bawl and weep
(Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut!)
Elbows flailing, squealing teeth
(McDonald's! Pack your mouth shut!)

Hitch your skirts and start running
'Cause it's already coming
And we're long past fucked!

"When the fridge stops humming and my medicine crusts
We'll still have the Big Society, in God I trust.
And when all the ambulance tyres run flat
I'll still have my Nectar card and my phone contract."

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