Cheek to cheek

They pressing that lovely skin,

Till it leaves marks on the windscreen.

Of a car driving rich and fast,

Our people’s dreams were things of the past.

We were preached to live a life of service,

Enough to make my dear love all nervous.

The men say this is the direction we want,

Bomb squad bullcr*p as our bloodstores fall off the punt.

We are all babies looking for milk,

Instead they leech our youth to build their silk.

Of the faces that got glued to a bottom,

A loud spankin is what they shoulda gotten.

Wake up and smell the air,

The weighted coin is all but fair!

But we can change all them blokes,

Introduce them to what I call the ’surf’ stoke.

Take the pill and choose to chill,

Life can be a pleasantly passing thrill.