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    Mister Thompson calls the waiter, orders steak and baked potato
    Then he leaves the bone and gristle and he never eats the skins;
    The busboy comes and takes it, with a cough contaminates it
    And puts it in a can with coffee grinds and sardine tins;
    The truck comes by on Friday and carts it all away;
    And a thousand trucks just like it are converging on the Bay, oh,

    Garbage (garbage, garbage, garbage) Garbage!
    We're filling up the sea with garbage (garbage...)
    What will we do when there's no place left
    To put all the garbage? (garbage...)

    Mr. Thompson starts his Cadillac and winds it down the freeway track
    Leaving friends and neighbors in a hydro-carbon haze;
    He's joined by lots of smaller cars all sending gases to the stars.
    There they form a seething cloud that hangs for thirty days.
    And the sun licks down into it with an ultraviolet tongue.
    Till it turns to smog and settles down and ends up in our lungs, oh,

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    Garbage (garbage...) Garbage!
    We're filling up the sky with garbage (garbage...)
    What will we do
    When there's nothing left to breathe but garbage (garbage...)

    Getting home and taking off his shoes he settles down with the evening news,
    While the kids do homework with the TV in one ear
    While Superman for the thousandth time sells talking dolls and conquers crime
    Dutifully they learn the date of birth of Paul Revere.
    In the paper there's a piece about the mayor's middle name,
    And he gets it done in time to watch the all-star bingo game, oh,

    Garbage (garbage...)
    We're filling up our minds with garbage
    Garbage (garbage...)
    What will we do when there's nothing left to read
    And there's nothing left to need
    And there's nothing left to watch
    And there's nothing left to touch
    And there's nothing left to walk upon
    And there's nothing left to talk upon
    Nothing left to see
    And there's nothing left to be but
    Garbage (garbage...)

    In Mister Thompson's factory, they're making plastic Christmas trees
    Complete with silver tinsel and a geodesic stand
    The plastic's mixed in giant vats from some conglomeration
    That's been piped from deep within the earth or strip-mined from the land.
    And if you question anything, they say, "Why, don't you see?
    It's absolutely needed for the economy," oh,

    Oh, Garbage! Garbage! Garbage! Garbage!
    There stocks and their bonds -- all garbage!
    Garbage! Garbage! Garbage! Garbage!
    What will they do when their system goes to smash
    There's no value to their cash
    There's no money to be made
    But there's a world to be repaid
    Their kids will read in history books
    About financiers and other crooks
    And feudalism, and slavery
    And nukes and all their knavery
    To history's dustbin they're consigned
    Along with many other kinds of garbage.
    Garbage! Garbage! Garbage! Garbage!

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Bill Steele

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