a traffic island mandala which dreams the city
a colour coded map of greed versus pity
disguised angels against arrogant devils on display
this is mammon's kingdom and you have to pay
the meter bolted to your heart will take it's toll
this is the levy they have set on your soul
ash in your mouth and poison in your eyes
we are buried in pain under acid rain skies
told the lie that earth is doing well
and that we haven't created another kind of hell
that swallows us even before we die
that tells us this is heaven by infecting the eye

by backroad, street and alley this place is known
we are the plague carriers the seed is sown
to learn that the name of the planet's tumour
is modern man, mallrat, advert-whore, consumer
a retroviral map in each of our heads encoded
we march across the country like the living dead
infecting a town with the disease of shopping centre
ten years from now any remaining identity will be eroded
all the vital tissue shall be cut away or dead
and there shall not be a single free-thinking dissenter
can this terminal disease ever be cured or at least slowed?
can we laser off our mark, that human number, the barcode?

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