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 F 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