Mi Amigo

[Keith]

Now sit down,
back straight, think pure thoughts
bed by eight.

We will tell you what to like,
sub-serve the governmental might,
happy now your shirt is clean,
we control the things you dream.

Off Essex coast a storm revolves,
evolves behind a bulk head door,
magnetic waves straight to shore.

Pirate supply meets demand,
stranded hull scrapes onto sand,
a million listener's battles won,
you had to give us radio one.

So I guess you thought that
would stop the rot,
a safety pin nose
the smell of punk rock.