Darlings are you ready for the long winter's fall?   Said the lady in her parlor   Said the butler in the hall   Is there time for another?      Cried the drunkard in his sleep not likely   Said the little child, what's done   The lord can keep   And the vicar stands a-praying      And the television dies   As the white dot flickers and is gone   And no-one stops to cry   The big jet rumbles over runway miles      That scar the patchwork green   Where slick tycoons and rich buffoons   Have opened up the seam   Of golden nights and champagne flights      Ad-man overkill and in the haze consumer crazed   We take the sugar pill   Jagged fires mark the picket lines   The politicians weep and mealy-mouthed      Through corridors of power on tip-toe creep   Come and see bureaucracy make its final heave   And let the new disorder through   While senses take their leave      Families screaming line the streets   And put the windows through an corner shops   Where keepers kept the country's life-blood blue   Take their pick and try the trick      With loaves and fishes shared   And the vicar shouts as the lights go out   And no-one really cares dark ages   Shaking the dead closed pages      Better not read   Cold rages burn in your head