British Rail Class 170 Turbostar (live at Wharf Chambers Cooperative Club)

Gourmet mushroom burger: PC fan in a brioche bun
Feel of rusted tongue, on motor oil and Dutch metal leaves
As meat and muscle, melted, drip through the drains
The march of progression was never meant to be this mundane
Nevertheless, a success from a government outsourced contract
Set up to investigate effects of GM upon cattle and sheep
In an effort to influence the colour of dog shit

A shifting city caked in digital smoke
From a nearby Turbostar one seven oh
The future of travel
The death knell for steam
And automatic doors, now triggered by a sense of unease
Broken paving slabs, bearing engravements of screenshots of Ceefax, under the foot of
Scaffolding that inches its way towards you until you find that you've nothing left



Credits
Writer(s): Jack O'connor
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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