Hear the twinkles scrambled down for cash alone,
a have-to-scratch, a keeps–on–itching scab of sound,
the lyrics rhyme like you’re a cat
and someone’s stamping on your tail;
nursery verse for nursery heads.

Those sneering noises still fix anger in my thoughts
with junky tunes injected every spin;
they empty sensibility
like acid empties eyes:
nursery verse for nursery heads.

Oh, consumer kings,  oh  how you show respect
to those addicted to your same again:
nursery verse from nursery heads.