Justa
There are those days when you just get cynical about everything; the whole direction the world is heading and the future of humanity. It is so sleazy.
The businessmen look at everything as an opportunity to make a buck, to fleece you, scam you and induce you.
Everyone is so desperate to be noticed, to stand out, to be famous. Skirts can’t get any shorter, lads any lewder or heads any drunker.
The whole of youth culture is a hedonistic free-for-all. It’s not that I have a problem with morality; it’s more that I cannot see any substance to it. There’s no depth. Everyone is either sucking on some spliff or a tube of gas, looking to shag someone or jumping to the next thing. The attention span is minimal. It’s all surface deep.
Anything goes. Fun and easy laughs. Mindless drunkenness.
It has its time and place. I’m all for a bit of fun and occasionally getting out of your head is fine, but as fulfilling life’s purpose it’s sadly lacking – it’s sad.
There is no engagement, depth or focus. It’s vacuous.
Let’s get our kicks! But there’s other more creative things to do with our lives, things that give it purpose – love, music, art, dance, appreciation of beauty. There’s more to life than being a superficial moron, tottering on high heels, staggering with your shirt unbuttoned with your ubiquitous tattoos on show, shouting, larking and repeating the same thing night after night.
Back in the office they prostitute themselves at the screens, on the phones and filing crap, striving to get on, get more money, earn, get bigger tattoos, more shoes, matching purses, bigger cars, more pulling power. They claw at each other’s eyes to get on.
There are those days when you can see that nobody really cares about the real issues. They are content to party along in a Narcotised haze. It’s fuel to ISIS. It’s death to the world.
The businessmen will sell the last chimp to the highest bidder, the last tree to the logging company and the crass, meaningless Pop trivia will blast out to great squeals and shrieks as the Titanic goes down.
Justa
I done cold champagne and caviar
Along with marching powder from Bolivia.
I smoked the best and I must confess
There’ve been days when I had to give it a rest.
I’ve been up all night rapping til dawn,
Teasing the truths that have never been born.
I could shoot you the line
But I’d be passing the buck.
I’ve come to the opinion
Life is just a suck,
A jump
And a fuck.
I’ve been filling in time in the stress factory
Mining the ulcers that stop men being free.
I’ve learnt all the lessons
And attached the noose.
They promised me tomorrow
They’re turning me loose.
Thought I had the answers
But now that I’m stuck.
I see life is just a suck
A jump
And a fuck
I see the young girls all squealing
And the guys strutting their stuff.
I see the shady deals
Where we’re all selling our muff.
We stare at the art and read all the books.
Straight between the legs
Is where the businessman looks.
I drink in your dreams
But I just have to chuck.
For life is just a suck
A jump
And a fuck
Opher 24.3.98