The Crowd Goes To A Different Festival...

We squelched on to that sea of mud,
put our lawnchairs on the ground,
But got sworn at by people near the back,
who claim our 'king chair's blocking the sound

There's the sound of people swigging,
drinking lager and other crappy beer
The sound of violent drunks and smack heads
Let's hope they don't get too near

But they step upon our sandwiches
And throw up on the ground
They take out funny cigarettes
Light them up - and pass them round.

It makes me nervous, who they are
It makes me frightened, what they do
And whenever I want to use the toilet
There a terrible stench of poo

When the rain falls you can't see the universe,
Not the planets, stars or moon,
just lots of puddles full of faeces,
Why am I here? Why are you?

Look into your neighbour's eyes
and within there's a druggy cloud
At the campsite they start bloody singing
They are terrible, they are loud

Can it make a difference, which fest you go to?
Can it make a difference, what you do?
Can it make a difference, which music you like?
Do you want this crowd to be with you?

Stand up, stand up and protect me
Shout the loudest you'll ever hear
While you race to fetch security
I'll draw my loved ones near

Now ugly were those tent burglars
who threatened to stab me in the heart
I've packed up and I'm away from here
I'll stick with Cropredy, 6X and Maart!

Cos it makes a big difference where you come from
It makes a big difference what you do
It makes a big difference where you go
You wouldn't want that crowd with you!

Written by Widds