Choose a job.
Choose a career.
Choose a family,
Choose a fucking big television
Choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players, and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol
and dental insurance.
Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase
in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who you
are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing
sprit-crushing game shows
Stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all,
pishing you last in a miserable home
Nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish,
fucked-up brats
You have spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future. Choose life.
fly away on my zephyr
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