Sixth 'Plastique Fantastique Communique: We the ungenerated remain ungenerated- Do theyz owe uz a living, course they Ghawkin duz!'
What iz gen-ner-ration? What iz it to gen-ner-rate? For the Staabucks-Silverbacks-Super-Creatives and for the good Cheesy-Burghers of Middle England, it iz the make-king-image-king-magic-king of much mun-nee, but also never en-nuff mun-nee! And they will say their gen-ner-ration of mun-nee "makes all other things!" "All other thingz is you the logo-head, you the smooth-body, you the metro-sexual! This gen-ner-ration makes uz sick, we vomitz and spews out our gutz. Our headz spin like a mill stone on a windy Wednesday at all their lies. Cos we iz not gen-ner-rated by them and wez do not gen-ner-rate anything! Wez are not worth a rotting sheepz fartz. [All make farting noises.] Wez gen-ner-rate nothing but ourselves! But can theyz afford to ig-nore uz? I ask, duz they owe uz a living? [All: 'Course they duz !'] I did not here you. Duz they owe uz a living? [All: 'Course they Ghawkin duz !'] Yez, of course they Ghawkin duz!
Wez tiez the furst ribbon to mark our un-gen-ner-ration, our magic-king of ourselves by ourselves. Wez callz upon the beings of the past and those of the future, wez call upon all Ghawkins, to undo their gen-ner-rations.
What iz Re-gen-ner-ration? What iz the 'Rrreeee' of Re-gen-ner-ration? [All: What is it?] It is the magic-king cry of the para-site, the blood-suck-king-mun-nee-make-king-hum-man-king who haz no other aimz but to use what iz for their own gen-ner-rate-ting endz. Mark you well, theyz use youz and mez, so az to make-king their own image and re-all-lity. Their re-all-lity is our con-sense-us reality, a closed re-all-lity. And they makuz general, they makuz the general pube-er-lick of their con-sense-us reality. Our lifez is to enjoy theyz pube-er-lick benches and pube-er-lick monumentz and pube-er-lick prêt-a-mangey. Iz the magic-king of Rrreee the gen-ner-ration of something out of something? No! They make nothing new. [Nothing!] Only the same. [All: Only the same!] For the Staabucks-Silverbacks-Super-Creatives and for the good Cheesy-Burghers of Middle England, the past iz nothing but the a war-rap-ping for their own I-mage. Wez un-gen-ner-rate and gen-ner-rate ourselves, wez never re-gen-ner-rate! Wez iz immortal! [All: We are all immortal!] But wez az re-cog-nised az a cowz pat! But can theyz afford to ig-nore uz? I ask, duz they owe uz a living? [All: 'Course they duz !'] Duz they owe uz a living? [All: 'Course they Ghawkin duz !'] Yez, of course they Ghawkin duz!
Wez tiez the secund ribbon to mark our un-gen-ner-ration, our forgetting of con-sense-sus-re-all-ity. By our magic-king of ourselves by ourselves. Wez callz upon the beings of the past and of the future, all the Ghawkins, to break the con-sense-sus-re-all-ity of re-gen-ner-ration.
We iz the un-gen-ur-rate-ted and wez are magic-kings too . Ban-ned frum the Roxy! Okay! Wez didn't wuntz to play they're anyway! The Ghawkins! Duz they owe uz a living? [All declare: 'Course they duz ! Course they duz !'] Duz they owe uz a living? [All declare: 'Course they Ghawkin duz !'] Course they Ghawkin duz!
We tiez the thurd ribbon as a call-ling forth of the Ghawkin in uz all. Tiez the ribbon! We know our re-all names! [All call out their name at once!] Now light the torch!
Eighth 'Plastique Fantastique Communique: Message to the good people of Middle England, (the Ghawkin demands a sacrifice), general public, declare that you do not exist!
Ye pee-pull, you all live in cloud-di-cook-koo-land! And I will prove it! You are re-gen-ner-rate-ted. [All: Yes, regenerated.] Do you know what iz re-gen-ner-ration? It iz the any-ma-shun of the dead? [All: Dead!] You are dead matter walking, re-any-mate-ted, you are the living-dead! [All: Dead, dead.] Your namez are given to you at birth, they are not your re-all namez made by you. Theyz ugly namez and makez youz ugly in life! Youz iz ugly, twice and thrice ways! [All: Thrice Ugly!] And your car-rears are the most ugly of all uglies! You must un-gen-ner-rate yourselves, un-tie your-selves, for-get-your-namez! [All: Forget, forget] And give your-selvez a new name! Name the Ghawkin in your-selves! Gen-ner-rate a new name for your-selvez. [All: Name the Ghawkin!]
What iz gen-ner-ration ? What iz it to gen-ner-rate? Do yuz know what the Staabucks-Silverbacks-Super-Creatives and the good Cheesy-Burghers of Middle England say of gen-ner-ration, thay say it iz the make-king-image-king-magic-king of much mun-nee-image, of big smile-lee pube-er-lick, but also never en-nuff mun-nee-image, of big hung-ger-ree pube-er-lick! And they will say their gen-ner-ration of mun-nee "makes all other things!" All other thingz meanz you! Does this gen-ner-ration makes youz sick and vomitz and spews out your gutz? [All: We vomit up our guts!] Duz it not make youz spitz with an-ger? [All spit.] Duz yourz headz spin like a mill stone on a windy Wednesday? Do not be gen-ner-rated by them and do not gen-ner-rate anything for them! Becomez worth not even a rotting sheepz fartz. Gen-ner-rate nothing but your-selvez! Then can theyz afford to ig-nore yuz? I ask, duz they owe yuz a living? [All: 'Course they duz !'] I did not here you. Duz they owe yuz a living? [All: 'Course they Ghawkin duz !'] Yez, of course they Ghawkin duz!
What iz Re-gen-ner-ration I ask youz? What iz the 'Rrreeee' of Re-gen-ner-ration? It is a magic-word of a magic-trick. The magic-king cry of the para-site, the blood-suck-king-mun-nee-make-king-hum-man-king who haz no other aimz but to use what iz for their own gen-ner-rate-ting endz. Mark you well, theyz use youz and mez, so az to make-king their own image and re-all-lity. Their re-all-lity is our con-sense-us reality, a closed re-all-lity. And they makuz general, they makuz the general pube-er-lick of their con-sense-us reality. Theyz duz it all for uz own good! So theyz seyz! The Ghawkin knows better . [All: Yes, the Ghawkin knows better!] Our lifez is not to enjoy theyz pube-er-lick benches and pube-er-lick artz and pube-er-lick prêt-a-mangey. [All: Fuck their Public Benches and their Fucking Public Art.] Our lifez iz for making new namez for our-selves! But them, theyz makez nothing new. [All: Nothing!] Only the same, them-selvez. For the Staabucks-Silverbacks-Super-Creatives and for the good Cheesy-Burghers of Middle England, the past iz nothing but the war-rap-ping for their own eye-mage. What is it to Re-gen-ner-rate? It iz to die and not know it! [All: Die and not know it!] Do not die! Live! Un-gen-ner-rate and gen-ner-rate your-selves! Never re-gen-ner-rate! Ghawkin iz immortal! [All: The Ghawkin is immortal!] Become immortal! Az re-cog-nised az a cowz pat! We iz the un-gen-ur-rate-ted and wez are magic-kings too. [ All: Banned frum the Roxy! Okay! Didn't want to play they're anyway!] Duz they owe uz a living? [All: Course they duz ! Course they duz !'] Duz they owe uz a living? [All: Course they Fucking duz !'] Course they Ghawkin duz! We know our re-all names! [All call out their name at once!] Do you all know your re-all namez? Wez leave youz now, we go to a better place. Wez shall not return!