You Press the Button, We Do the Rest - Duke Special

In '83 while Berlin I took the chance to ogle

At silver plates and bichromates developed by Herr Vogel

And so began a love affair which blossomed into passion

For all things photographical, but now my face is ashen

Oh, I refer, of course, to Mr Eastman’s new construction

A regular Pandora’s box put into mass production

Those fools who dream they’re artists are to me a tad deluded

For owning your own Kodak doesn’t stop you being stupid

Out into the sticks they carry it

Every Tom and Dick and Harriet

Furiously pedalling upon their chariots

Snap snap snap snap snap they go

Why they snap they do not know

They disregard discretion, they eschew the right to choose

Like mindless big-game hunters they’ll shoot anything that moves

I don’t suggest that you’ll progress to better lumière

But this clowning with a Browning is frankly more than I can bear

Their rolls of nitrocellulose exposed beyond redemption

It’s back to Eastman’s factory for God knows whose attention

And then as if expecting heaven’s blessing from the stork

They wait for a delivery postmarked Rochester, New York

Out into the sticks they carry it

Every Tom and Dick and Harriet

Furiously pedalling upon their chariots

Snap snap snap snap snap they go

Why they snap they just don’t know

You push the button, and we do the rest

Well not unlike that button I am suddenly depressed

Out into the sticks they carry it

Every Tom and Dick and Harriet

Furiously pedalling upon their chariots

Snap snap snap snap snap they go

Why they snap they do not know

You’re all obsessed with things extraneous

Only interested in the instantaneous

Suddenly somebody’s muddling up the quickest with the brainiest

Snap snap snap snap snap they go

Why they snap they do not know

Snap snap snap snap snap they go

Why they snap they’ll never know