Your punk check ain’t gonna change one cent no matter which
way the game goes
The big boys are playin you like suckers just to take your
meager chump change
You’re a fool to get all worked up over muscular black men
dressed up in tights
This is the pabulum they feed you to keep your mind empty
and your mouth shut
But you’d watch that shit in the ICU first thing after your
abused heart gave out
Your heroes waste their money and get arrested for rape and
dope and assault
You know more about their phony sports statistics than your
own credit card debt
That childish hero worship ain’t ever gonna get you a share
of their title money
Yelling and eating and drinking by the big screen don’t
enrich your future one damn bit
Win or lose you will still have to make the payments on that
upside down car loan
You ain’t on the team and none of them would even give a rip
about yer dumb ass
Wake up and smell the Astroturf and then go scrape that
decal off your car
It’s not loyal and patriotic or an honored part of some
bogus traditional family heritage
But the advertisers and sponsors play it up like it must be
a big part of real life
Get the stupid theme music out of your one-track,
beer-soaked brain
Stop watching and talking and dreaming and thinking about it
so much all the time
You waste so many hours every week on the Big Game,
you might just as well have been asleep
Then you have this foolish gnawing emptiness when its over
again for another year
Maybe you can have their copyrighted logo incised on your
financed headstone
Perhaps your idea of heaven is a box seat as your team wins
the big one every day
And you let the clever advertisers keep on beating their sad
empty shit into your empty skull
While you just sit there getting fatter and your heart and
eyes and brain wear out
You will never even ask why sports is reported as much as
news on every stupid channel
But its really not just a game, is it? Pathetically it is
a very important part of your tiny life
You get your thrills through them, and you jump up and wave
your fist and shout
You’re a loyal fan who knows all their names, even though
they never win a game
With all the time, thought and emotion you have invested,
you should be very rich
It's only a game...It’s not only a game, it’s your holy quest, you toadlike
little weenie roaster
They’re making millions and your real income is going down
even as you sit there
You just charged 5 Gs at 20% interest so you could see the
game on a big screen TV
You just can’t separate the artificially flavored hype from
the unvarnished, tawdry reality
The noise, color and violence touches a very basic juvenile
need deep inside of you
And they play upon it to prey upon you and help you retain a
retarded immaturity
Put down the sports news, get off that website and stop
dissecting their performance
or
just maybe you can take that sexy fantasy with you as you leave your debts
behind and die
No comments:
Post a Comment