LYRIC FOR SALE

By Six Degrees

I’m sure it all looked lovely in 1:50th scale
A concrete solution to a stalled revolution
New broom sweeps clean and a rising tide lifts all boats
Who wouldn’t want to be boarding this Brutalist Ark?

Corbusier’s wet dream was stillborn on the Rotring board
Have you revisited the scene of your crime against humanity?

Look upon your works, ye mighty, and tremble
At the thought of who’s waiting around unlit blind corners
Concrete stilts sheltering only vandals and vagrants
Lifts that crush the spirits, tags on walls and ankles

Fifty years on, you’re dead but your infamy endures
Metal-framed windows falling out faster than the tenants

You sacrificed the classics, the icons, the greats
In pursuit of a sterile, grey, concrete disgrace
Gaps stuffed with rags so you’d pocket the riches
A nod is as good as a wink to a blind man

But I can see what you did to my streets, my people
And there’s no inverse glamour in this high rise ballad

Your neat suburban bolthole couldn’t save you from the hatred
Of generations stunted by your pygmy dreams of utopia in the sky
I hope you rot in a hell as bad as the one you created for us
We’ll never trust your unkind again