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Its time to celebrate, to come out and play weve been counting down the days. This weekend weve got a band holiday! Were as sick with expectation as we are with what were escaping. Lock up the house, load up the car, weve twenty-four hours to spend in a godd*mn theme park. We are so grateful for our new state-funded stately pleasure dome. Shock and awe and an over-priced gift-shop you didnt have fun if you didnt buy the t-shirt. Paying through the nose so you can pr*ck-tease your animal instincts. Art starts to imitate life in the factory; the factorys a prison, so art is seen to atrophy all our days off in front of the TV instead of a stock screen. We just commute from one end of the conveyor belt to the other. Oh, the kids who wouldve led the unions in the past now grow up staying silent in darkened cinemas. If every hour that I have spent stuck in a circus was spent learning a language, Id have so much more to say. And if every penny that I have spent on processed bread was spent on growing my own food, my skin wouldnt look so grey. Work and rest and play safe in the knowledge that this is the only way. The hand that feeds chooses the menu, but Im a fussy eater. Work rest and decay. One commodity a day will keep subversive daydreams away.