Shitex
is the sound of one hand clapping,
It’s
a blood-soaked bath that’s near over lapping,
It's
a thousand kids rapping crappy rhymes
and
whatever else passes,
with
pants that don’t even cover their arses.
Shitex
is the traffic jam where Punt becomes Hoddle,
It’s
the mad Monday munt when they all hit the bottle,
the
truck drivers on uppers going full throttle
and
a holiday road toll losing an unwinnable battle.
Shitex
is the Byron Bay tracks without any trains,
When
it never pours but it always rains.
It’s
the State Liberal Government going to pains
To
silence the poets and all the people with brains.
Shitex
is a new tax, carbon pricing, mining resource rental,
goods
and bloody services tax,
taxes
masquerading as levies, tariffs, fees,
discounts
on fuel and excise on tobaccy,
taxes
on ya booze, on ya gas and ya leccy
tax
on taxes, on ya house,
on ya car and even ya funeral casket.
Shitex
is the opportunist start up upstarts overcharging on utilities.
Australian
owned used to mean owned by Australians,
but
Shitex means you pay through the nose,
through
both nostrils and out your arse too.
Pay
Shitex for your phonecalls, line rental and handset,
John
Howard fucked Telecom just like he fucked Ansett,
now
they've got us browsing for flights on webjet,
crouching
in cattle class, while shares are down at Qantas,
moron
CEO asks Mr Abbott “why don't you want us?”
Shitex
Party Politicians are laughing and saying “not yet!”
Shitex
is supermarkets without any baskets,
no
baggers or hard sell,
it's
available on the Internet, or novated lease,
Shitex
is guaranteed without credit checks for bad debt.
It
comes in all sizes, for all shapes and all vices.
Shitex even makes nappies and tampons,
sells giftcards and coupons,
and all kinds of add ons,
you can even get pills to help with your hard ons.
Shitex
is the Brisbane Bears or Newtown Jets,
your
money back on losing bets.
Buskers
thrumming on splintered frets,
3
men short of a string quartet,
Forensic
cum stains on her epaulettes,
Army
rations on plain-packaged cigarettes
Shitex
is your darkest fear in an awful year,
A
cold wet tongue in your sinful ear,
You can even get it in a pull o' beer,
or a broken promise from a bull's rear.
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