You're so bloody perfect
Aren't you?
You on the estate.
With your mock tudor houses,
And manicured nails.
You have your hoildays in Florida,
The "Sunshine State"
With your two point four children;
And designer names.
Everything's so bloody wonderful,
In your ivory towers;
You'll go on thinking that this is real life,
Till you're covered in flowers.

The men in the suits
Want you to play by their rules.
They want you to fit in the establishment groove.
You must do as they say;
(But not as they do)
There can't be any excpetions to the rules.
You must follow their lead,
And not think for yourself.
They'll call you a rebel
If you break the bureaucracy mould.
And above all;
You must be able to be pigeon holed.
Well have I got news for you?
This little pigeon
Won't fit in your hole.

I wanted to write to you all.
To tell you how I feel,
Espescially you few;
who really make my blood boil.
You who say one thing;
When you really mean another.
You who really hate my guts;
But tell me:
"Nothing's too much bother."
Whether poiltician,
Or cleaning lady;
You're all the same to me.
Why can't you just say what you mean?
It's not that hard;
I'll show you how easy it can be.
So this is my message;
My four letter prose.
To all the hypocrites of the world;
**** off!
There; you see.
That's how easy it is,
To just say what you feel.