Do the people always exist

 Where there's no telly

 And no place to get pissed

 The crops they are sold

 I've had a bad year

 Their children will starve

 And live in fear

 

 All that matters

 Never random

 Even God-dwellers

 Live in cellars

 Hi Tech Cities

 Such a pity

 Life is sterile

 Never pretty

 

 Originality

 Is there no goal?

 Be the same

 

 ???

 ???     big brother

 All those ???

 There is no other

 

 Nowhere to weep

 The masses sleep

 In occupations or incubations

 All your rumours are on the file

 This we say "Don't charge for style"

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