qualitative easing

if music's still
the food of love, we got malnutrition
they're spooning out
that putrid mush on television
while vinyl junkies
score from dealers that they trust
their snobbery
has served them well, but their moral satnav's bust
just look around
it's clear we've reached a junction
just baby talk
from adults who can barely function
the slightest bit
of sleight of hand will have the punters crying
everybody gives their all
& no one's really trying

& now your innocent brow
has got a permanent frown in
you need a big armoured car
just to nip into town in
well it makes me despair
the clowns that we're crowning
but the cupboard is bare
a drought you could drown in

Simon Cowell has the crowd in bits
his trousers hitched up round his tits
inspiration just gets in the way
& he knows that quality don't pay

when I was young
it felt like music mattered
but now it's gone
all the tribes are lost & scattered
& all that's left
is ordinary & mundane
no wonder then
this zombie music industry's insane

so the orchestra swells
although no one can see 'em
'cos musicians are cheap
yeah, & who wants to be 'em?
it's just a marketing scare
with a semblance of sound in
because the cupboard is bare
it's a drought you could drown in