We’re sorry, your heart still beats,
you can’t get out life’s contract,
like the rest, you’ve got to endure,
our appalling impact.
But seeing as you’re on the line,
let’s talk about goodbyes,
we’ll fill in cancellation form,
that mostly will despise.
We’re not about convenience,
we’re cogs, full of dust,
what’s that? Can’t flush it down,
due to drawn-out road-work fuss.
Also, in terms of commute,
go find another way,
for when it’s past April 13th,
they’ll be no number 90 that day.
We’ve diluted appreciation,
thoughts run down the Thames,
we’ll refute your opinion,
like England’s ex number 10.
Original copies, director’s cuts,
don’t please the poster children,
thus, we’ll scratch the author’s plots,
to extend dismay and burden.
We’ve switched off, a lot you like,
we know you want to kill us,
your threat’s unimportant,
for we’re big money business.
Over-prescriptive laws,
and pop-culture, is the rub,
mortal lives; are so short,
because we make it tough.
We cancel any virtue,
so we can stay accepted,
as saviour types are crucified,
better to stay infected.
For now, our form’s complete,
I’m sure there’ll be revision,
thanks so much, for your license fee,
now get back to the television!