The Great Austerity Bake Off

You've a hunger to greet this great artist
An audience that clambers to feed on his masterpiece a carcass
Calling it art it's the ultimate farce it's
A foodist love for a stomachs catharsis
A cookery class for the narcissists
To share the leftover waste of an arse that sits
On the seat of the jacks firmly in the grip
Quick taking the piss through yer arse spitting the shit
Here's the bourgeoise for a pre light lunch apperatif
Have a neo liberal seat bon appetit
Slap those limbs on the table shred on a bed of leafs
Prime cuts at stake when the butcher paints his piece
All over the apron with no thoughts of cost
Here have a molotov to wash down the holocaust
Cannibal carnivores tearing at the the flesh
Fed on the slaughter of the innocent fresh
Flooding the markets with mouth watering death
The hunger its a rush of blood to the head
With the lust of a sexual beast to be fed
Pornographic elites socially feasted

Feed me, feed me, im starving
I want something to stimulate my needs, so will you please
Come on and feed me, feed me
I need fullfillment not this emptyness i feel
Feed the real with the myth that you would never admit to
Feed me

They're designing cakes with ingredients
That came from some exotic places a rarity feeding us
Unaffordable but glued to this visual feast the sensation
Seemingly tasteful only consumed as presentation
In our sights the potato blight is a flight of fantasy
A memory of black 47 in a factory
From the great famine to the great bake off
Celebrity dining on a modest proposal takes off
Feed the child stuff em for the market
We'll develop the sensual electrify the target audience
The new nobility sits in dining halls deisgned for kings of old
Delectable tastes elaborate feats of control
Voyeurism imprisoned in non participation
In the hope you will be filled from the televised starvation
While they plot and plan to fleece this bitch nation
We'll reach frutition when we eat these rich patrons
There's families can't make ends meet
Getting surfed and turfed out on the street
Cause thats the real happy meal deal it's incredible
Revealed as a peeled spud blackened and inedible

The bean sprouts affirmation of life speaks
Where food is an art that's starved of it's meat
His temper marks his eyes as he's
Shouting and raging at his employees
And with every expletive he narrates
A contempt of everyone and every thing he hates
He doesn't so much cook as bluff
And fornicate with every face he can stuff
And sing