You feed on the corral dust of the politicians
The brainwashing machine gets off the ground
You're the best couch potato, married to stations
Not giving a hoot if somewhere people are drowned
You're brain-dead, TV has turned you into a vegetable
Another plane crash, you're unconcerned with the death toll
Just a picture on the screen, it can't be that terrible
You feel pretty safe at home, right on a roll
The artificial realm of phony heroes turns you on
You know everything about them and feel for them
Keeping a serious face, you don't react to a pun
You're deeply absorbed in your impersonal TV dream
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem