“Fuck art, let’s danse,” you said

til you saw Tracey Emin’s unmade bed

For the first time in your life,

you felt at home in a gallery

Got under the duvet

told ’em you were the installation

You started your own new wave

called Double Bluff Confusion

“Fuck pop, let’s punk,” you said

Then you grew a mohawk on your head

I must admit it looked

like a fucked up mess

So I took you to the highway

You said we’re going my way

You started to pogo

We were both screaming “No logo!”

Ahh, ahh, ahh

Ohhhhh!

“Fuck politics,” you said

You wanted poetry instead

The trouble is, I thought

the taxes on those books you bought

The value added

is surplus to requirements

But to combat it

We need to make arguments

“Fuck art, let’s danse,” you said

“Fuck art, let’s danse,” you said …