We stuck a pound sign in the rhyme
Now fairytales must all be told
With Murdoch eyes on pots of gold
"I hate my life!" "I'm far too fat!"
The magic box has spells for that
Its wand cures manufactured cares
In answer to primeval prayers
Thus mortgaged all up to the hilt
Infected with familial guilt
As sure as one and one is two
Your dreams sell dreaming back to you.