Welcome to My Show Trial - Momus

I could’ve been a traitor

I could’ve been a tailor

I could’ve been a waiter

I could’ve been a failure

I chose to be a writer

Every writer is a traitor

So here I am

Call me Pam

Call me Stan

Call me Gran

It’s taking place in Imation with no written constitution

Let alone a guarantee of freedom of expression

While the customs men still rummage for smut through every incoming package

Like a parcel sent to Britain, my show trial was open and shut

Call me Gran

Call me Stan

Call me the man

Here I am

And the weather is getting clever, more clever than ever

And a spot is a spot, until it is a blot

I’m a poet, I know it, I’m a writer in the mirror

Every writer is a traitor, I’m getting sillier and sillier

Here I am

Call me Stan

Call me Gran

Call me the man

Call me Anne

Call me Stan

Call me Gran

Call me the man

But here I am

I’m feeling poorly, before the jury

They’re going to smoke a cigarette in the carpark

That shouldn’t matter, but I’ve just delivered my own defense

I was a spiritual witness, I talked about the death of the nation

I spoke about duty, class, money, art, orgasm and death

I said «I possess none of the above, except, perhaps, for orgasm and art»

Therefore, I had nothing to lose

I went on about ignoring the unwritten rules

Any suggestion that there’s idiocy in ordinary life

Any hint that children might understand the facts about love

Any notion of normality might not be so ideal

What women think of men and what men really feel about women

In a penetrating x-ray of the soul, revelations of the secrets of professionals

in guilds

These things are forbidden by tacit understanding

Call me Stan

Call me the man

Call me an idiot

But I spoke about you

Every writer is a traitor

And when I look in the mirror

I see a writer, therefore a traitor

Welcome to my show trial

Every owl is beguiled

Full fathom five my father lies

I am a writer

And so play the game

Be a good chap…