Half our mind’s a stranger to our self

Through the TV series fun on Saturdays,
They educate us to our foreign ways
We’re blind to our own prejudice, you see.
But we can see it on our dramatised TV.

Our mind’s a stranger to our self;
As Freud discovered with his stealth
We make believe we are all saints.
In words, by gum, it doesn’t half sound quaint!

Tonight on Taggart we see Poles
Shot at close range, here, look , bullet holes.
They’re foreign though they were born here.
And, by the way, your auntie’s queer.

We want a game like chess  with rules
Make it black and white, we’re fools.
We forget the Last Judgment’s here today
And God is foreign, by the way.

God’s the foreigner par excellence
He sent us Son down here just once
But like we often do , we killed
They’re using TV   now to change our wills.

Enlighten us, dear God, by screens  of blue
Make us understand we’re foreign too
We don’t  need to go to Church
The TV’s on and here I perch