Vincent Vocoder Voice - Your Grandchildren Are Already f**ed (The Silence Of Animals) lyrics

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 Scream for seconds Bawl and weep Elbows flailing Squealing teeth A Pizza Hut, a Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut! McDonald's! Pack your mouth shut! Hitch your skirts and start running 'Cos it's already coming And we're long past f**ed. “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.”