You middle class boys
You middle class girls
Relations of the owners with your middle class prose
You’re not sophisticated, erudite or unique
You write like you’ve been taught to sneer
Inside a cosy clique

Fuck the mainstream
Fuck the mainstream
Fuck the mainstream media

Your finger’s on the pulse of a decaying corpse
You’re flogging a dead ideology horse
You think you’re cutting edge
But you couldn’t cut your teeth on razorblades
I wouldn’t wipe my arse on your broadsheet

You wanna middle eight but you’re never gonna get it
You wanna middle eight but you’re never gonna get it
You wanna middle age but you’re never gonna get it
You wanna middle eight but you’re never gonna get it

You puke your sneering rhetoric and sixth form psychobabble
Across the Sunday Supplements to educate the rabble
Everyone’s beneath you except your uni mates
Wake up and smell the petrol bombs you fucking waste of space

The Scotsman, The Herald, The Guardian, The Times
You should get out more, get a fucking life
Rolling in your faeces, rehashing classroom theses
Sharpening your clichés
Lazy, lazy leeches

From the album Yes O Yes