In somewhere there's a factory that churns out coffee beans for free
Fields of labourers adjusting dials and fixing temperatures to give that roasted
natural feel but peel away the skin, look in and then behind the outlines, find what's really in the ***.
I think it's something that somewhere they also put into the air to keep us drugged, doped up and roped.
I like coffee anyway or what they pass off as coffee for those of us who cannot pay  men like me who have no say who have no way to regulate the ******* awful state that thing have gotten into and you, yes you who could have been so capable just rested on your laurels with your feet tucked underneath the towers of some undemocratic babel and left the somewhere to its own devices, vices and corruptions erupting into plastic wastelands, I do believe these factories are built upon the skin and bones of dead men and dead telephones, no signs or signals emanate what a ******* awful state.
But I do like coffee, I do, I do and if I say it often enough you'll come to like it too and the whole rotten crew from Westminster know we do and that's their edge.