When Reality Bites

In Surrealtime

The Real Madrid

They play out of greed.

Pulp out some chemical

And preservatived fruit

You get mango juice-all Real.


And there are those of the

Real Estate Club,

That speak of the far left,

Uprisings of prices

And shoot up the shares of the Club.


The Real Madrid

They play out of greed.

Just as them artsies

Or armchair-angst aunties

And with them the funded bastards.


We have in our midst

The Realtime cliques.

With heartburns of Subalterns

And plastics of Exotics

They cross swords with them- the Pretenders.


The Real Madrid

They play out of greed.

But at least they pay their taxes.


Said Corporate gangsters

We work, we’re not Angsters.

Says the hard-news Journo

I’ve seen what you’ll never know.

The Real World- really not for you guys.


The Real World geeks

They speak out in greed.

In search of brown fundings

And deconstructed landings.

Speak not of them just in jest.


The Real World videos

Of cop-killing and weirdoes.

Of madness and civilised

Of pristine home left behind

This is art-culture-politics of the really Real kind.


The Real Madrid.

See, they play out of greed.
But we play for just bread n wine.

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