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tourettes - john key's son's a dj lyrics

[intro]

[verse 1]
it’s a weekday in our clean green banana republic
in the shadow of million dollar villas
barefoot kids walk to school along dead-end motorways
cardboard days filled with empty stomachs
let them eat instant noodles
welcome to new zealand
brought to you by skycity and the good people at anadarko
our gracious leader
like a george bush light
he tells me there’s a part time job
waiting for everyone at the milk powder factory
he tells me we have a rockstar economy
like the fat guy from the feelers on a c0ke binge
he tells me global warming’s not so bad
we might never have australia’s economy
but at least we got bush fires now
and the media stands impotent
seagulls parroting his f-cking nonsense
and the headlines read:
john key’s son’s a dj

[verse 2]
everything must go
national parks, state houses, our sovereignty
we have to fund the new flag
pay tribute the monsanto empire
and give tax breaks to silver spoon socialites
half the country voted against their interest
so maybe they’re really into sh-tty wages
and helping rich people realise their dilettante dreams
there’s fool’s gold in them hills
and oil on them beaches
a backwater twilight zone
where nikki kaye’s a feminist
cameron slater’s a journalist
and john key’s son’s a dj

[verse 3]
we are now in the twenty-fourth year of the oil wars
and the national government wants you to play the fool
in the theatre of war
so they can be an extra on the world stage
client state
glorified mcdonalds franchises
-ss end of the world
no muslims ever called me dole bludger
i vote we send the all blacks to iraq
who’s with me?
and as the old saying goes:
john key’s son’s a dj

[verse 4]
and when did rioting and looting become uncool?
i’m getting old
and what about f-cking what’s his name
trying to have a battle of wits with eleanor catton
like watching a poodle fighting a wolverine
the rise of the short poppy
where our country becomes a company
and higher education doesn’t mean getting hired into occupation
and intellectual is a four letter word
and john key’s son’s a dj

[verse 5]
the last time i checked my privilege it was still there
no ideality politics
singing the white man’s blues
i woke up this morning and had an existential crisis
if i don’t eat lamb, watch rugby
and blame the poor for my sh-tty life
do i even exist?
the neoliberal dream wanders aimless through dead gr-ss
strip mines and strip malls
in p-ss stained calvin klein y-fronts
muttering news speak like a dying patriarch
the prime minister’s son
the heir apparent
playing lorde remixes in the vip of a burning building

[outro]

- tourettes lyrics

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