January 2nd, 2009 by Chris Eng

I try and keep a log (admittedly more mental than physical) of the songs and writings I find inspirational in working toward my greenpunk goals. ‘Shangri-La’ by the Kinks sums up my feelings on suburbia and its accompanying lifestyle better than most other works I can think of.

Now that you’ve found your paradise
This is your kingdom to command
You can go outside and polish your car
Or sit by the fire in your Shangri-La
Here is your reward for working so hard
Gone are the lavatories in the back yard
Gone are the days when you dreamed of that car
You just want to sit in your Shangri-La
 
Put on your slippers and sit by the fire
You’ve reached your top and you just cant get any higher
You’re in your place and you know where you are
In your Shangri-La
Sit back in your old rocking chair
You need not worry, you need not care
You cant go anywhere
Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La
 
The little man who gets the train
Got a mortgage hanging over his head
But he’s too scared to complain
‘Cause he’s conditioned that way
Time goes by and he pays off his debts
Got a TV set and a radio
For seven shillings a week
Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La
 
And all the houses in the street have got a name
‘Cause all the houses in the street they look the same
Same chimney pots, same little cars, same window panes
The neighbors call to tell you things that you should know
They say their lines, they drink their tea, and then they go
They tell your business in another Shangri-La
The gas bills and the water rates and payments on the car
Too scared to think about how insecure you are
Life ain’t so happy in your little Shangri-La
Shangri-La, Shangri-La la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
 
Put on your slippers and sit by the fire
You’ve reached your top and you just cant get any higher
You’re in your place and you know where you are
In your Shangri-La
Sit back in your old rocking chair
You need not worry, you need not care
You cant go anywhere
Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La

 
And just in case that needed any reinforcement, I’d like to cite Lili Taylor in Say Anything, who, in one of her Joe Songs, also summed up my feelings on the matter quite nicely.

That’ll never be me,
That’ll never be me,
That’ll never be, never be me, no.
 
That’ll never be me,
That’ll never be me,
That’ll never be, never be me, no
 
No. Never. No, never, ever, ever. Don’t you ever think it!