Thursday, 24 November 2016

Hey Up What's the Crack





HEY UP! WHAT'S THE CRACK?


There's ghost inertia on the fringe of passion
The Art of Martial sex is well in fashion
Through Venetian specs with special effects
You get sex by text - whatever next!
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids on a downward track.


Trainspotting clones called Smith and Jones
Bug your deepest thoughts via mobile phones
Put credit-debtors in French-letters
with horse betters and ant petters
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids on a downtown track.

The Goat-farmer from Kathmandu
Is wise to your Karma and illusion of you.
This material world for those who fail
To see the light in this urbanic trail.
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids clickety clack a downward track.

There's a carboot sale on a virtual beach
with a plastic snail and a slice of quiche
and a shopping mall for personality
This banality's free on Reality TV
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids slide down the chimney stack.

You get post-grad cash-back
For shagging in the love-shack
A 6-pack, fast-track; 0% APR, the money goes far
A free toy car, so there you are!
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids caught on a salesman's camera trap.

Give me Caffrey's, give me wine
This Circe society has turned you to swine.
In this fiscal boom, you are what you consume
A two-timed dildo under a lover's moon.
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids slide down the snakes and adders track.

It's true, it's true, life is a Vindaloo
Hot with passion, too highly spiced for you
Slow down, slow down, examine your vision
Your life is a bank
Instant credit, instant decision
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids on a downward track.

By Trev Teasdel August 2006


POWER CHORD PRIMATE _ METAL VERSION




POWER CHORD PRIMATE _ ROCK VERSION 
Words and music by Trev Teasdel. - 
I was born to be wild, a wild thing running free, a bowler-hatted Steppenwolf on the steep Steppes of Santa-Anyplace. I rode a six string saxophone with a left-field pickup truck, swinging in the trees and looking to get lucky. A power-chord primate with intuitive ignition, I radioed my intentions intensely. I was Lay Lady Lay in a lay-by near Las Lascivious fretting over her laid-back arpeggios. Nothing makes sense in a wild town, you have invent all your own meanings and feed them back down, town to town. I wasn't born to be understood, I peeled the fruit of life on the run. Outside Sacramento we were Monkey Magnifico, our amps ran off with the lost chord of the planet and the audience were torn between ovation and disgust. Well that's rock n roll for ya!!

Some more on Keith Armstrong's Poetry Tyneside - Teesside Dynomo http://poetrytyneside.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/trevor-teasdel-teesside-dynamo.html


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