A Trust In Advertising History.
Pins and needles, sewing cotton reels, screws and nails,
Biscuits, crackers, pick and mix, tobacco, rizla papers.
When I was young, tins were something to keep bits in.
Pretty pictures on the their lids, we took no notice of this.
Or the ancient signs on a wall, promoting products old fogeys bought;
Blue, yellow, orange, green, red, black, white.
More interested in album covers and sounds of the present/past.
The Beatles, the Stones, Pink Floyd, The Doors.
Smoking fags behind the bike shed, and sciving off school.
We didn't think about the future, everything was cool.
A pension? What's the point of thinking about that?
It's years away, and anyway, the state will see us alright.
Johhny Rotten arrived with a brand called punk -
The New York Dolls did it first - and there's still no future for you.
Mrs Thatcher came along with Victorian views
THE BLITZ? That was almost a tea party,
Everything changed - for ever.
Protect me from what I want.
As for collecting - a borderline mental sickness.
Money, Money, Money - always funny - like fame,
Enamel signs, novelty tins, vintage cars, a Porsche;
Shares, yuppies, the stock market, art: It's all the same
FUTILE.
The Universe will disintegrate one day.
Particles breaking up in who knows how many ways?
Everything will disappear, (Ask Professor Brian Cox)
It won't be the same.
Empty. Dark. Silent. Cold. Forever expanding like a collectors lot.
I may sound morbid, I am and I'm not,
I wish I'd never collected anything at all.
There are more important things in life,
Than an obsession, and the accumulation of stuff.
Take time to smell the roses. It's easy.
What has gone, has gone.
Has been, and will never be again;
Money, heritage, a passion - too much trust.
Thank you, it's been a blast. Now I must sign off.