Letra de 'Supermodel' de Attila The Stockbroker

Prepubescent imagery.
Empty, stupid eyes.
Waif thin.
Tyrannical.
No fat.
No body hair.
No character, no love, no personality -
no brain.
So thin, and yet...
so thick.
By your anodyne complicity
in this gruesome stereotype
you connive
in the corporate enslavement of your sisters
- anorexia, bulimia, self-loathing, fear.
They aspire to be like you
- an unnatural creation of capital -
and wreck their bodies in the process,
destroy their fertility,
tear apart their lives.
But hang on a minute?
Not my place to talk about that?
I'm a man, what do I know?
You're just trying to earn a living?
What I'm saying has been said before?
OK.
But when the football blokes look
and make some expected remark
I'm supposed to join in.
I'm supposed to fancy you -
or pretend to.
Well, I don't.
And I won't.
More than that.
You revolt me.
You give me an inversion.
It's quite simple really.
I just don't desire a stupid adman's toy
styled to look like a prepubescent girl
- a real ‘babe' -
there in the tabloid
next to the lurid description
of Gary Glitter's downfall.
I love a real woman.
I won't buy the product you advertise.
I won't watch your latest film.
I'm not interested in your poxy TV series
I'll never set foot in that bloody car
and I hate you.
I know I should just ignore you, or feel sorry for you
but I hate you
and your fashionist masters
bringers of misery
destroyers of individuality
harbingers of despair.
Women and men:
Riot against diet!
Sod the microchip revolution -
let's have a fish ‘n' chip one!
Cream bun chocolate cream bun chocolate
lard lard sag aloo beer beer beer!
Riot against diet!
Smash fashionism!
Say goodbye to Hello!
Make Cosmopolitan....cosmopolitan!
Let's have a real woman's realm!
Take over the curry house
Fill your freezer full of ice cream
Live
Love
Get real!