Europe is lost

Kate Tempest (2017) Europe Is Lost, Let Them Eat Chaos. Londres: Fiction Records

In the basement flat, by the garages 
Where people dump their mattresses 
Esther’s in her kitchen, making sandwiches 
The slats on her blinds are all wonky and skewed 
You can see her from the street before she moves out of view 
To kick her boots off tired feet 
She wipes her forehead with her wrist 
She’s just back from a double shift 
Esther’s a carer, doing nights 
Behind her, on the kitchen wall 
Is a black and white picture of swallows in flight 
Her eyes are sore, her muscles ache 
She cracks a beer and swigs it 
She holds it to her thirsty lips 
And necks it till it’s finished 
It’s 04:18 AM again 
Her brain is full from all she’s done that day 
She knows that she won’t sleep a wink 
Before the Sun is on its way 
She’s worried ’bout the world tonight 
She’s worried all the time 
She don’t know how she’s supposed 
To put it from her mind 

Europe is lost, America lost, London lost 
Still we are clamouring victory 
All that is meaningless rules 
We have learned nothing from history 
The people are dead in their lifetimes 
Dazed in the shine of the streets 
But look how the traffic’s still moving 
System’s too slick to stop working 
Business is good 
And there’s bands every night in the pubs 
And there’s two for one drinks in the clubs 
And we scrubbed up well 
Washed off the work and the stress 
And now all we want’s some excess 
Better yet  
A night to remember that we’ll soon forget 
All of the blood that was bled  
For these cities to grow 
All of the bodies that fell 
The roots that were dug from the earth 
So these games could be played 
I see it tonight in the stains on my hands 
The buildings are screaming 
I can’t ask for help though, nobody knows me 
Hostile, worried, lonely 
We move in our packs  
And these are the rights we were born to 
Working and working  
So we can be all that we want 
Then dancing the drudgery off 
But even the drugs have gotten boring 
Well, sex is still good when you get it 

To sleep, to dream 
To keep the dream in reach 
To each a dream, don’t weep, don’t scream 
Just keep it in, keep sleeping in 
What am I going to do to wake up? 

I feel the cost of it pushing my body 
Like I push my hands into pockets 
And softly I walk and I see it 
This is all we deserve 
The wrongs of our past have resurfaced 
Despite all we did to vanquish the traces 
My very language is tainted 
With all that we stole to replace it with this 
I am quiet 
Feeling the onset of riot 
Riots are tiny though 
Systems are huge 
Traffic keeps moving 
Proving there’s nothing to do 
Because it’s big business 
Baby, and its smile is hideous 
Top down violence 
A structural viciousness 
Your kids are dosed up on medical sedatives 
But don’t worry about that 
Man, worry about terrorists 
The water level’s rising  
The water level’s rising 
The animals, the elephants 
The polar bears are dying 
Stop crying, start buying 
But what about the oil spill? 
Shh! No one likes a party p**ping spoil sport 
Massacres, massacres, massacres, new shoes 
Ghettoised children murdered in broad daylight 
By those employed to protect them 
Live porn streamed  
To your pre-teen’s bedrooms 
Glass ceiling, no headroom 
Half a generation live  
Beneath the breadline 
Oh, but it’s happy hour on the high street 
Friday night at last lads, my treat! 
All went fine till  
That kid got glassed  
In the last bar 
Place went nuts 
You can ask our Lou 
It was madness 
Road ran red, pure claret 
And about them immigrants?  
I can’t stand them 
Mostly, I mind my own business 
They’re only coming over here to get rich 
It’s a sickness 
England! England! Patriotism! 
And you wonder why kids  
Want to die for religion? 
It goes, work all your life for a pittance 
Maybe you’ll make it to manager 
Pray for a raise 
Cross the beige days off  
On your beach babe calendar 
The anarchists are desperate for something to smash 
Scandalous pictures of fashionable rappers 
In glamorous magazines, who’s dating who? 
Politico cash in an envelope 
Caught sniffing lines  
Off a prostitute’s prosthetic tits 
Now it’s back to the House of Lords  
With slapped wrists 
They abduct kids and f*ck the heads of dead pigs 
But him in a hoodie with a couple of spliffs 
Jail him, he’s the criminal 
Jail him, he’s the criminal 
It’s the bored-of-it-all generation 
The product of product placement  
And manipulation 
Shoot them up, brutal, duty of care 
Come on, new shoes, beautiful hair, bullshit! 
Saccharine ballads and selfies 
And selfies, and selfies 
And here’s me outside the palace of me 
Construct a self and psychosis 
Meanwhile the people were dead in their droves 
And, no, nobody noticed 
Well, some of them noticed 
You could tell by the emoji they posted 

Sleep like a gloved hand  
Covers our eyes 
The lights are so nice and bright  
And let’s dream 
But some of us are stuck  
Like stones in a slipstream 
What am I going to do to wake up? 

We are lost, we are lost, we are lost 
And still nothing will stop, nothing pauses 
We have ambitions and friendships  
And courtships to think of 
Divorces to drink off the thought of 
The money, the money, the oil 
The planet is shaking and spoiled 
And life is a plaything 
A garment to soil 
The toil, the toil 
I can’t see an ending at all 
Only the end 
How is this something to cherish? 
When the tribesmen are dead in their deserts 
To make room for alien structures 
Develop, develop 
And kill what you find if it threatens you 
No trace of love in the hunt for the bigger buck 
Here in the land where nobody gives a f**k