Just a Little More to the Left

Oh, your picture drives me nuts!

Lovely gift, lovely gist, lovely grit

Can you help adjust and hang it?

Push it hard, rock it hard, stir it hard.

No!

Just a little more to the left...

There!

You got it...

Stop!

Fuck!

Too much!

Let's go again!

Yes, we're here together. Yes.

Look around, look alive, look alike

I'll get off my phone, I promise.

Few more clicks, few more pricks, few more ticks

Oh, the portrayed you is better.

'Cause it's mine, you're not mine, this is mine

I can do with it whatever.

You don't know, you won't know, you can't know

Move for me and make it perfect,

Go sit there, in the shade, lose the braid

That's too much for composition,

Turn around, smile a bit, step aside

Just a little more to the left

Give your all, give it all, give me all

There's the bull!

Can't you aim?

Don't you see?

Can it be?

That's a miss for you

I told you!

Did you hear?

Did you swear?

Just a little more to the left

And you'd had it.

Had it all.

Had it all.

Had it all.

Public public public and public

transport, forums, schools, health

Now you pay for them good money

That's the dream: it starts with us!

And the sick, the poor, the homeless

They don't vote, so they can't play

Some must sit upon our wallets

For the dream and for the land

Oh how different would this world be

So much freer, and so brave!

If we scoffed those fancy armchairs

Just a little more to the left

Like their hearts, our hearts, their nature

In the middle, beating fast

But its tip, its peak, its summit,

You won't find it,

It's NOT there

Are you looking?

Move your hand then

Just a little more to the left

Those who left don't get leftovers

Those who left in times of war

Those who left don't get called people

By the ones who voted right

Persevering in their efforts

To correctly stuff their mouths

And those left, once we're all dead then?

What about their solemn rights?

We have looted, we have stolen

from their future to our comfort

from their planet to our plate

Stuff your face with fancy fortunes

Leave them nothing! Leave them shite!

Once it's over and you're dying,

you'll be cold alone and old

Happy wondering what happened!

Why's there nothing left to give?

Could we maybe look for balance,

less perfection, less possession

And make sure that when we're dying

In between our perfect pictures, perfect selfies, perfect lies

We could maybe scrounge together

Just a little more to the left