Priceless. Above value.
A diminishing concept
In this corporatist new century
Wisdom is not yet genetic
Old people forget and young ones don’t learn
So mistakes are made again and again
If the young bloke in the supermarket
Has never heard of Epsom Salts
How can he help you find them?
Stupid leaders constrained by suits
Fall back on the myopia of their fathers
Who were stunned and confused and frightened
By their experiences of War.
They wanted routine and picket fences
Illusions of order in the aftermath of chaos.
They found rock’n’roll rebellion and long hair
Men on the moon and assertive women
Television warfare in their lounge rooms
Kids with strange ways and music
Loose girls that didn’t get pregnant
Living in sin with students
From foreign neighbourhoods.
Against the natural order
Nothing’s what it oughta be
“Things were better after the war,
we had it tough, mind you,
but you knew where you were
when no-one else was different
in the way they spoke or looked,
except the Chinese restaurant mob
who just got on with their cooking.”
Mould growing faster on the myth
As the rural life of legend
Crumbles in the dustbowl of waste,
Intolerance, rigidity and greed.