Friday, 8 January 2010


You’re always up to your arse hole
In electrical gear that’s broken,
And services easily ordered
That turn out to be nothing but token.

And everything purchased is faulty,
And returning it likely to test you,
Cause you’ve lost the receipt or the warranty,
So you say as they come to arrest you.

As the man at the store was a moron,
Or the woman or lady or bitch,
And their manager more than a moron,
And lucky he just got a stitch.

So you’re arrested again, and bound over,
But they’ve got too much on and forget
What you did so you’re sent down to order,
For offences you didn’t commit.

For let’s face it our services struggle
To apprehend what’s going on,
And when they attempt to re-shuffle
The whole system breaks down again.

And eventually you’re let go of,
For they have no idea who you are,
But you know so you make a big show of
Pretending repentance and more.

And there’s no way your going to stop buying,
For if you do the economy fails,
So I guess you’ll just have to keep trying
And next time you might even make bail.

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