At the plastic surgeon's barbeque
On the 19th of November
I had to attend the bash
There were supermodels and women who waddled
Because their pockets were so filled with cash
There were hips which lied
And lips which never told the truth
Because they hid under the botox lid
And fake booby traps were the proof
As I wandered around the congregation
Who had gathered round the grill
The band were playing Radio head
And sounding kind of shrill
And the heat of the coals was scolding
And the sausages sizzled and fried
And the fat burnt down into the fire
Like from a burnt sacrifice
Who are the Gods you worship?
I asked after a while
But they turned to me and pointed to false idols
Standing in a magazine Style
Kournety Love, and Kurt Cobain,
And garage and of grunge
And all those Pops stars who made their names
After taking somekind of plunge
But they were never fake I said
Never plastic, though man made
They were the real thing like a choir that sings
Carols on Christmas Day
But in their expression I could see no understanding there
Their faces were taut like tennis rackets brought
Down on the ball to bear
Hard and like a lion
Rearranged like a puzzle
Lumps that began to shift
As a harness around a dog's muzzle
You see the plastic surgeon's bbq had begun
To destroy his own wax works,
And slowly they were all melting
As a candle does in a church
And the next time I turned they had become
Just pools of melting silcone
With some bones, that shone alone
Which attracted the dog's attention
And the plastic surgeon was on his knees
Thinking of his own destruction
And how would his customers ever pay the bills
On their own reconstruction
Never speak of this he said
For this is a tale of the living dead
Who wished for correction on what was fed them
Through false images on internet or television
That pool there was an instagram influencer
And her over there was a lottery winner
And he was a fat cat who wanted to be thinner
But it was all to no avail
For this is living dead told in a moral tale
Don't get too close to the flame
For like the moth you will
Burn
See their ashes and you'll learn
The true price of celebrity's fame
I asked him if the sausages were burnt
He put them in a bap and I said haven't you learnt
You need health and safety at an event like this
He said his fire officer had fallen off a cliff
I said what a faux par, no he was driving a car
And he was a crash test dummy
I said is everyone around you fake today?
Well I thought it couldn't hurt it was my own birthday
I invited them here and now here they'll stay
Buried under the patio
Well at that I decided to take my leave
He told me not to wear my heart on my sleeve
I said it was in the right place and he
Offered me some plastic surgery
