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Tim Minchin: So Live (2007)
I am so fucking rock
I am so Goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock I am so fucking rock I am so Goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock I am so fucking rock I am so Goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock I am so fucking rock I am so goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock I am so fucking rock I am so goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock Don't you know you wanna rock it with me If you came expecting a burlesque show With girls in nipple tassels and a flying trapeze I'm sorry but I'm going to have to disappoint you You should have read your program more carefully If you came expecting liturgical dancing With new interpretations of the story of Moses I'm sorry but I'm think you will be disappointed You've made an error during the booking process But if you came to see ... me! I'm really happy that you achieved your intentions Cos it's all very well to live in the moment But planning is important is you want to achieve your goals And maybe have some savings when you're old! I am so fucking rock I am so goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock I worked very hard for my rock 'n' roll hair I get it chemically straightened and I style it for hours And I worked very hard for a rock 'n' roll face I've got the kooky contact lenses and the girly mascara But there is something deeper inside Something that this mask I wear won't hide I paid lots of money for this big piano And the fancy, fancy lights to make me look like Michael Jackson I paid lots of money for this bohemian coat And the fact I dont wear shoes is just an affectation But there is something deeper inside Something that this costume cannot hide Something from a distance you wont see Something fundamentally me! I am so ... rock I am so goddamn rock I'm mother- fuck- Hear me rocking on the piano, sing, go! The guitar! Fucking- I am so fucking rock I am so goddamn rock I am so motherfucking rock. Dont you know you wanna Rock it with me Rock it with me! Rock it with me! Whoo! All the ladies in the house, come on and let me hear you say "Hey-oh!" Hey-oh! -Look at you. - You rocked it. - Yeah, fucking rock! All the fellas in the house, come on and let me hear you say Whooo! Whooo! All the ladies in the house, come on and let me hear you say: "I'm not good with maps. But I have a highly developed emotional intelligence!" -I have emotional intelligen- Oh, I'm sorry. Um- All the f- This is a love song. Your love for me is not debatable Your sexual appetite's insatiable You never ever make me waitable Delectable, inflatable you. You don't have problems with your weight at all You never steal food off my plate at all I never have to masturbate at all Unstoppable, inflatable you. You never seem to menstruate at all So you're not angry when I'm late at all I feel permanently felatable Unpoppable, inflatable you. With you in my arms I feel we could just fly away With the right kind of gas I might even try it some day In this ocean of life I'm never afraid we might drown We could just float forever whatever the weather Whenever my inflatable lover's around. Your thighs and buttocks are so holdable You always do just what you are toldable And if we argue you just foldable Controllable consolable you. My mates all reckon you are suitable I took you round to watch the footable And Steve and Gary said you're rootable Refutable, commutable you. You're never sensitive or tickley When I rub you my skin goes prickerly It's know an static electricity Felicity when I'm kissing you. Your skin is so smooth, I couldn't afford you with hair You have all the holes real girls have got plus one for the air Your problems are simple, I don't need my Masters in Psych To know if you get down I just perk you right up With a couple of squirts from the pump off my bike. You never wake up when I snore at all A trait which I find quite adorable You have a box and you are storable Ignorable, back-doorable you. Any sexual position's feasible Although you don't bend at the knees at all Your hooters are so firm and squeezable Increasable, un-creasable you. You don't complain about my hairy back Or 'bout the inches that downstairs I lack You're not disgusted by my furry crack Burt Bacharach Jack Kerouac Ooo. Now birth control is not an issue No! I clean it all off with a t- I bet my jealous friend all wish you Were insatiably inflatably theirs. Yeah! Piano solo, me. Dont let me down. And I wont let you down. Uh, hello. Hello! Hiiaah! What's your name? How are you all doing? Good! And you? Oh, thank you, fu- What a relief! I thought, for a second there, you hadn't elected a leader. And it was complete anarchy. I'm fine, thank you. What's your name, leader? Abbie. Abbie? Like a little church. Generous like a church. Thanks for asking. Um, I'm fine, good! Uh, I'm Tim, for those of you who just, sort of popped down, taking a punt on a small newspaper there, or something. I'll just give you a bit of background, I'm a- a person. I ... Uh, grew- I grew up- Born and bred in Perth, West Australia. Thank you, I- I did next to nothing to earn that priviledge. But, uh. Um ... Thanks anyway. I now live in, um, London, in the United Kingdom. Which is, uh, great! Perth has- Are you guys from Perth? Yes. Yeah, oh right. Well, as you know, it's quite a quiet place, those of you who have visited. It's quite a small place. London's very busy. It's got a real sense of excitement. I mean, I love Perth. But London's got this sort of sense of urban danger, which is very seductive. You know, where I live, in the North, right, for example, an ambulance seems to go past my house with its sirens blaring like once every three minute. That seems to be a statistically improbable number of North Londoners requiring urgent medical attention. At any given time, and you can't help but feel excited because, odds are ... You can't help but feel that one of these days, one of these ambulances is gonna come for you. And it's different over here. Even the ambulan- I mean, the ambulances, for example, every time they go past my house, I notice they have, their writing's green, for one. That's weird. And it says on the side, in big letters: "EMERGENCY AMBULANCE". Which is, like- Surely the adjective is kind of implied by the noun. But then, I figure it's just to distinguish them from our ones over here. They're just normal ambulances, you know? They're a bit more laid-back. They don't really emerge. They just kinda ambulate. Hang out in parks. Like massively over-equipped Mr. Whippy vans. Everything's more complicated: the taxis! You know, in Australia, they just have taxis. You just ring one, you get in and you go somewhere. They've got different types of taxis. The main one, of course, the famous black cab, you know, the English cab. And they're, you know, proper, and they've got proper English cabbies. And then they've got this whole other set of taxis called mini-cabs. You guys heard of mini-cabs? Been to London a bit? They just look like normal cars, but they have a special sticker, and the driver has a special license, and he's allowed to act as a taxi. Then there's this whole other group of public transport. Vehicles that I hadn't heard about when I moved there. And they're called "illegal mini-cabs". And they're just dudes in cars. And they're only cab drivers in the same sense that my mate Pete is a pharmacist. And as the name suggests, they are illegal! They're a bit of a, this sort of scary thing in London. I'd never heard of them, but when I first got there, i was staying, um, near, uh, Old Street Station, which is on the northern- those Londoners, you know Old Street. I was staying on New North Road, just near Old Street. And I was walking down New North Rd, when I first got there uh, towards Old Street, and I came across a bus stop, with a bus stop advertisment. You know, so it's six foot high, and it said: "If you wanna know how much an illegal mini-cab could cost you, You seen these? ask a rape victim." That's so- that- I felt shocked! I was like "Look, I get the point you're trying to get across, I mean it's very important, but in the middle of the street! A child could read-" I was- I just thought, that's not necessary, that sort of thing. But I sure learnt my lesson. Because a couple of nights later, after I saw this sign, I was in Soho, having a drink with some friends, I went to the bar, and I met a girl, you know, just "What are you getting?", that sort of meeting. And I got talking to this girl, she was a really great girl, and we got chatting, and we talked all night, be we got pretty drunk, um. And eventually it got sort of, heavy, the conversation, and she disclosed to me that she had been, um, the victim of a sexual assault. So I asked her how much an illegal mini-cab would cost, from Soho to New North Rd, near Old St, where I was staying. And I'll never forget what she said. She said: "About 8.50." I mean, it was closer to 9, but I'm surprised this system works at all. But apart from the, sort of, ambulances, and the dangerous public transport, London, ah, is great. It's definitely the place for me, because, to be honest, um, I'm trying to, I'm trying to get famous. And, uh, you know, celebrities belong in London, I think. It's a great place for them to bring up the kids they've bought. Off poor people who live in less great places. And I'm not doing great, but I have met some famous people. I've gotta tell you about this gig, cause it was really exciting. I did a charity gig, and I had to go on stage after Mariah Carey! I kinda went straight after her, and played 'Inflatable You'. It wasn't deliberate, but it sure resonated with a poignancy that it hadn't before. I was standing- I was really nervous, as you can imagine, I was standing backstage, watching this woman, this- one of the greatest pop voices of all time, just tearing it to shreds on stage,in this tiny little dress, going- And I was just thinking, well, how can I go on after that? You know? That's amazing! And this dude is backstage, dude came up to me and said, uh, "She's lip-syncing." Oh, I thought "What a jip!", you know? Suddenly, the magic that is Mariah Carey kinda disappeared. You know, it's, it felt like I was watching a sort of cheap drag show. But without the intrigue of transvesticism. To my knowledge. And also I thought: "Sure, Mariah, you're a professional, you have your reasons. Lip-sync if you want to. But if you're gonna lip-sync, why would you do a Mariah Carey song?" This is a song about the music industry, trying to get famous, and having no depth. He doesn't have a problem with drugs, He just doesn't do them, He's fine that his mates have tattoos, But he reckons they'll rue them, He likes going to pubs, But he hates it when the music's too loud, He tends not to go to rock concerts, 'Cause he can't stand the crowds, But all he's ever wanted to be Is a rock star on RAGE or MTV, But he knows that it's not fucking likely, He just turned thirty, he knows that he Will always be A rock'n'roll nerd, He'll keep writing songs the world will never hear, And though they won't be heard He'll just keep writing, oh yeah But you see the problem is He always dreamt of being a star, But he learnt piano instead of guitar, Which in the nineties didn't get you very far, So while the other kids were learning Stairway He was the piano to their forte, But he was convinced one day He'd rock their fucking arses, And be an icon for the disenfranchised masses, Grow his hair long and rebel against the state, But just for now that'd have to wait, 'Cause he's running late for his morning classes. And he will always be A rock'n'roll nerd, He'll keep playing gigs that no-one knows about, And though it sounds absurd He'll just keep playing, oh yeah, But you see the problem is There's not much depth in what he's singing, He's a victim of his upper-middle class upbringing, So he can't write about the 'hood, or bling-bling, So he sits and imagines his girlfriend is dead To try and evoke some angst in his middle class head, But the bitch is always fine at half past nine when they go to bed, He's not spent a single night in prison, He has no issues with nutrition, He has no drinking problem and no drug addiction Unless you count the drugs they put in chicken, Marijuana always tends to make him cough, He doesn't look good with his t-shirt off, And when he tries to act tough, you can tell he's tricking. While his mates go out out late, Popping pills and havin fun, He goes home and showers, And gets a good eight hours, He gets his thrills from his morning run, While his mates all go on dates, Taking speed and drinking cans of Gin-Beam, He stays home and cooks, And curls up with a book, With the girl he's had since he was seventeen 'Cause he's never really been part of the scene, While the other kids liked Gunners he liked Queen, He's more into Beatles that the Stones, He's more Stevie Wonder than Ramones, He never owned a panel van, He never shot a Pantera fan, He doesn't know the difference between metal and thrash, He couldn't tell you nothing about Axl and Slash, He likes Ben Folds and The Jackson Five, He knows all the words to Stayin' Alive, And though he wants to be all grungy and cool He spent eleven years in a private school, So it doesn't matter how hard he tries, He cannot hide behind his rock'n'roll lies, 'Cause you've either got it or you don't, Yeah, you'll either rock it or you won't, You've either got it or you don't, Yeah, you'll either rock it or you wont. He knows that his music lacks depth But it just can't be helped, He has nothing interesting to say So he writes about himself, But he doesn't want to seem self-obsessed So he writes in third person, In an attempt to seem more rock'n'roll But he suspects it's not working, And deep in his heart he knows he Will never be Bono or Bowie And even if he was quite pretty In small pants like Kylie He knows that he ... Will always be A rock'n'roll nerd, He'll keep writing songs the world don't care about, And though it sounds absurd He'll just keep writing oh yeah, yeah, yeah, You can criticise him but he won't care, 'Cause he wants to rock, and he will never be deterred, But he'll always be a fucked-up little tryhard wannabe rock'n'roll nerd. A rock'n'roll nerd. Ow! So, I- I- Thanks, thanks, uh ... I have a problem with stockbrokers. Um, it's not- Is there any stockbrokers in the audience? I don't wanna upset anyone, it's not- I don't have a problem with the job you're doing. I'm not even, um- I'm not even entirely sure what it is. Um. My problem is a gramatical issue. Because 'broke' is the past tense of 'break'. So, strictly, I don't think you can have a broker. Like- I don't call myself a sanger. This is a song about, um, the conversation I had with a stockbroker, in a pub once. It's actually a beat-poem. Cool, huh? It's called, uh, 'Mitsubishi Colt'. He looks at me - intensely Eyes sparkle, Contact lens green with artifical envy Cocks his head and fixes me with a condescending stare Flicks his bleached, blond tipped hair And theorises thus: You know what I reckon? Pause for effect Adjusts his tackle as if its semi-erect I figure Id better give him what I know he expects What do you reckon? A hand on the shoulder An avuncular wink Sips his lemon drink Spits out the pips Hands on hips Licks his lips Like a wolf near a flock Yet again adjusting this fantasy cock He delivers his philosophy I reckon it dont matter It dont mean squat What you earn or what you got Or the style of your hair Or what you wear It matters not Like what do you care That I live on a hill with views of the beach That my chicks and my dogs have an en-suite bathroom each That Ive already reached my first 10 million and Im only 36 Youre as thick as two bricks If you think you can fix What is broke in your life with money And the funny thing is And I shit you not I would give it all up like that He leaves me to ponder his wisdom for a bit And with a click of his fingers He beckons the blondest, bimbo-est barmaid And grinning ridiculously Orders a G and And a beer, for me And before I can escape Hes back saying Cos mate, the thing is All of that crap Its all superficial Its all just a front Imean, anyone can be a rich cunt But the thing we all want Cant be bought with dosh You know what I mean boss? Cos it's not like you give a toss That when I want to get slim Ive got my own private gym And a personal trainer called Danielle or fucking Darlene Shes got tits Like those chicks In Playboy magazine And its not like you care That I own the controlling share Of an overseas company That builds accounting software It matters not one bit I mean who gives a shit If I earn six hundred grand And drive a brand new land rover You know I would hand it all over like that He pauses for a beat Long enough for me to retreat to a seat And sit, elbow on the bar And contemplate this guru With his white teeth and big car And ponder silently my belief That genius comes in many forms And that this postulating, peroxided porn-star prick aint one of them My specultaion cut short As he reforms Like Terminator II And before I have time to abort He descends upon me and snorts I guess what Im trying to say In my own little way Is that I reckon that musos and artists and that Well I reckon theyre great I know some people reckon you guys just sit on your bums And dont get out of bed til the pizza man comes And smoke cones And take crack And wack-off all day But I dont care what they say And I dont listen to people Who say that all actors are gay Not that I dont think thats OK As far as Im concerned Although its not my bag If you wanna be a fag Be a fag yknow? Who am I to say Where you come and where you go In the privacy of your own homo Ha ha Homo Ha ha Homo Ha ha Ha ha Hes shitting me now And my eyes start to glaze And through the haze of my anger I notice his G and T is gone And hes starting to dribble As he dribbles on and fucking on But you musos are alright I dont know much about music but I know what I like And I reckon Id give it all in To be like you Jim, Tim I mean you might be poor in monetary terms But what you earn spiritually What makes you what you are Just means so much more Than what you get from a really nice car Or a tennis court Or holidays in Greece Or a house on the beach Or stock market shares Or thirty-one pairs Of Calvin Klein underwear Do you understand? You are a wealthy, wealthy man And mate, I dont want to piss in your pocket But ive gotta say Before I get on my way That honestly And Im not having you on I reckon on day you could play piano as good as Elton John! The cops are still mingling Though the crowds shuffled out Ive got ice on my hand Where my fist met his mouth And although I explained That it wasnt my fault Ive a 800 buck fine For aggravated assault So before it gets worse I reckon Ill bolt A wealthy, wealthy man In a 1981 Mitsubishi Colt Is everyone relaxed? - Yeah! - So! Um. I've been, um- I've been, uh- Uh ... I've got this little personal confession. I've been, um- I've been going to see a psychologist, recently. No. I know,well peo- I know, I know, that's weird. Because, obviously, on stage I look like ... totally well-adjusted, and ... So it comes as a surprise. But I've been, um... just been to this psy- And it's not a big deal. It's just talking about stuff, the little things that I think I, you know, could probably just [?]. And one of the issues I have is, um, with anger. Um. So, I don't get ... I don't get angry. Um, so the issue is not really an anger issue, it's that I don't know how to express anger. Which is nice! I'm basi- It's nice to be diplomatic and stuff, but I- It comes from a fear of confrontation, I think. So, um... So ... I've been talking to this- Cos I worry about what's happening to all that anger that, like- Anger that I'm not expressing, you know? So, anyway, he reckons what I should do is write my feelings down. Thereby expressing myself without having to confront anyone. So that I don't , you know, um, bottle it up. And, um. So I've been doing that, I've been doing some writing. And I've written a poem. Which is really helpful to write. I think it might be even more helpful to sort of do in front of a sympathetic, non-judgmental, kind and neutral crowd like you guys. So, this is, um, this is my poem. It's called, uh, I've given it a title. It's called 'Angry'. Or, in brackets : '(Feet)'. Bit nervous 'cause of you guys. It's like a bit more personal and everything. Sometimes I get a bit angry But you couldn't tell, no you couldn't tell Unless you looked real closely Sometimes I get a bit angry But it's alright, yes it's alright Cause I keep it out of sight Inside, deep inside I breast fed 'til I was nine Which my QUACK... doctor says is fine And he also says I'd deal with anger better If I wrote about myself in a poem or a letter My mother was a FUCKING BITCH... caring lady She taught me all I know Although I was a little slow, she never gave up She never let me Slut down Although she spent a lot of time at the neighbour's house When my dad was out of town I didn't walk 'til I was seven, or talk 'til I was ten But neither did Napoleon, according to my QUACK fucking doctor Who has certificates in frames To substantiate his Dodgy Fucking... claims My father left my mother for the love of a PANTANG... nother And I have a Bastard brother who I've never really known Because me dad moved up to Sidney And he doesn't have a Bullshit You Fat Cunt... telephone In primary school I had trouble making ASHTRAYS... friends An issue which has become somewhat of a trend The origin of which I can not pretend does not perplex me Although my Quack Fucking doctor says it's cool And that loads of "Fat Prick!" "SHUT UP I'm NOT FAT" ...kids at school Have problems with communication And that of course some medication would be wise And combined with more honest self expression Could help me with my issues with emotional repression And at 200 bucks a session I think I'll take the Theiving Wank BASTARD Fucking chap's advice So. I quite like Porn... photography And books on GUNS... history And I'd like to be a And I'd like to be a POLITICIAN... vet And I feel as I get older I'm more in control of my violent tendencies And when I die KILL... die, I'll have no regrets And I feel that all this writing Is really Poofy exciting And my Quack Fucking doctor would be proud Because I feel a lot less angry And I'm saying stuff out loud And I'm letting anger out Like today in our last session When I taught the Quack a lesson 'Cause he said I'm not progressing Said I wasn't moving forward So I said, "Let's see how you move without your fucking legs." And I tied him to his chair And I pulled out my machete And I listened to him beg And then I cut his fucking feet off And while he laid there bleeding I used his feet to kick him in the head. Thank you GIGGLING CUNTS very much. I hope, I hope that was, um ... That helped, that was really helpful. So. ("Feel better?") Yeah, I feel a lot better, yes. Thank you, thank you. Um. Abbie? Another man just asked a question. Are you a leader, or what? It's funny actually. I sometimes ... There's a bit of ... language in that, um ... in that, uh, piece. And I got a letter recently, from a woman, when I was performing in Perth saying that she didn't see why I had to use such a crass language. And I wrote back, sort of explaining that language changes, you know? The whole vernacular is different, in a more- Standards change, and- and- And that these words are in common usage, now. And I started this- um... It's a true story: I saw on the front page of the Australian newspaper, um, the word 'fuck'! Right on the front page of the paper. I mean, things are changing. And all they had to do to get away with that was spell it 'fk'. Really weird that a little star could be enough to... slew that fickle outrage, you know? And, anyway, because the 'fk' is so commonly used these days, it actually, these days, means 'fuck'. More than 'fuck' means 'fuck'. It's almost a couter-productive disguise. It's like a ... Like a paedophile wearing brown tinted aviator glasses when he goes to the pool. If anything, it makes him more like a paedophile. Strangely, -and I also pointed this out in my letter, um- the protection afforded the word 'fuck' by the humble asterisk does not necessarily applies to all words. Even seemingly inucuous, perfeclty harmless words, like- Any word, like- Take the word finger, for example. Perfectly harmless word. But when you use it in a sentence such as: Um. 'I want to finger your mom.' It could be construed by some senses as deemed offensive. Now you have to say that the offensive word in that sentence is the word 'finger', used in this case as a verb. Or a 'doing-word'. But you would not get that sentence on the front page of the Australian newspaper by spelling it 'fger'. And that's because it's the context in which the word is used that makes it offensive. In which case, you might be better off spelling the sentence 'I wanna your mm." I guess the reason I've brought that up, um- I guess what I'm saying is, if anyone has been offended, so far, by any, anything, if you're the sort of person that finds any of that sort of stuff objectionable, um, or, for that matter, if you're quite a religiou- If you're a religious person, You might wanna pop out for about 5 minutes ... This is a song about ... anal sex and God. It's called 'Ten-Foot Cock, and a Few Hundred Virgins'. So you're gonna live in Paradise, With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins. So you're gonna live in Paradise, With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins, So you're gonna sacrifice your life For a ride on a UFO, And when the Lord comes down in his shimmering chariot of salvation, You're gonna be the first to know. And so if... God was there from the very beginning He invented men and women, Then He also invented wanking, Then He said wanking was sinning. So if I'm feeling randy I'm not allowed to hand-shandy, But having sex with my family, That is just fucking great. It's all there in Ezekial 8, Just before He opens up His big pearly gate, And says that it's a sin To take it up the date, Even if it's great, Even with your cow-boy mate. So you're gonna live in Paradise, With a ten-foot cock and few hundred virgins, So you're gonna sacrifice your life For a shot at the greener grass, And when the Lord comes down With his shiny rod of judgement, He's gonna kick my heathen arse. So if you... Cover the bodies of your women Everybody is grinning, Because black is so slimming, Though it's not great for swimming. But it gives you an erection, With the increased sexual tension, What with the U.V. protection That is second to none. You'll find it all in the Quran Just next to the bit that justifies guns, And says that it's a sin To take it up the bum, Even if it's fun, Even with permission from your mum. So you're gonna live in Paradise With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins, So you're gonna sacrifice your life For a shot at eternity, And when the Lord comes down And I haven't done my penance, He's gonna disembowel me. You say that... If I... Stumbled on a watch I'd assume it had a watchmaker, That a muffin presupposes a baker, So you must agree sooner or later, That this proves there's a creator. So if I put my foot in a stinker, You'd assume the existence of a sphincter Thus you don't need to be a great thinker To coclude that God's a bum, Which negates the words of Genesis 1 Which made Him out to be so much fun, Until Adam succumbed To temptation, And then His only son Got nailed to a gum, Or the Middle-Eastern equivalent, Which suggests that God's omniscience Is nullified by His ambivilance, Unless it turns out that He's impotent, And if God can't get a boner, I guess that explains the plethora Of huge erections in His honour - Because we all know a steeple's just a subconscious compensatory manifestation of a huge stiff penis - Still He tells us that it's heinous To stick a penis up your anus Even if you're famous, Even if you're good at tennis. So you're gonna live in Paradise With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins, So you're gonna sacrifice your life For a ride on a UFO, And when the Lord comes down with his big, stiff, slippery rod of judgment, I'm gonna be the first to go, He's gonna send me down below, He's gonna whip me like a hoe, Do you really think so? I'm gonna be the first to go. Thank you, thanks. Thank you. So, um. Thank, thank you. So, sometimes, uh ... Sometimes, 'cause material like that doesn't necessarily respect entirely some of the, um, idiosyncracies of a couple of major monotheistic doctines, um, people make the assumption -upon listening to such material- that I'm not religious myself. Which is,uh ... pretty spot-on. But, it's sort of beside the point. I don't wanna be divisive. You know? And, besides, I think I think you can be spiritual. I think you can have a big sense of spirituality without actually adhering to any of the major religions, um ... As it turns out, I'm... not at all spiritual. Uh ... I've just got this real sense of ... emptiness. But I believe in things, you know? I believe in ... uh, rocks. And, um... gravity, and uh- And I have, like a relativist morality. Which I can manipulate to suit my world-view. So that I can justify group-sex. For example, while [?] group-prayer. Works for me. But you have to admit, really ironically, I guess, given all the religious violence in the world, one of the things that actually binds us all, that we all have in common, across all cultures, and indeed all time, since the beginning of recorded thought, is this tendency to invoke the supernatural to help us explain those things in our lives which we find difficult to explain using only the evidence at hand, you know? A modern example of this: I saw on telly recently a show about, um, it was called, uh ... I think it was 'Miracles in the Womb'. Or, or 'Extreme Wombs', or ... Something, 'Changing Wombs'! It wasn't that. And, anyway, it was about multiple births. And a women had given birth to naturally-conceived, identical quadruplet girls, which is very rare. And she said: 'The doctors told me there was a one in 64 millions chance that this could happen. It's a miracle!' But, of course, as we know, it's not. Because things that have a one in 64 millions chance of happening, happen all the time. To presume that your 'one in 64 millions chance' thing is a miracle is to significantly underestimate the total number of things that there are. Maths. It's interesting, actually, now that I live overseas, it struck me anew, when I came back to Australia this time, that here, we seem- This compulsion towards the supernatural and mystical, seems to manifest itself, mostly, in Australia in the presence of bumper stickers. You know the ones I'm talking about? They're usually purple, and they generally imply the existence of a benevolent spirit of some sort, looking after us all, especially the people who bothered to put the sticker on their bumper. They say things like 'The goddess is dancing', and, uh ... My favorite probably is 'Don't drive faster than your angel can fly'. As if, of all the possible restrictions an angel might face, speed is the- Unless that is proposing the possibility of the existence of unfit angels. And probably the one that annoys me most, because it's most common, I think, is - I'm sure you've all seen it- 'Magic happens'. 'Magic happens'? They usually sparkle. I just- I just- I don't know what it is about 'Magic happens' stickers on cars, but everytime I see one, I wanna get my permanent marker and sort of sneak over and write underneath it 'So does cock death.' Under which a spiritual person, with a slightly more ephemeral marker might choose to write something like, um ... 'Yeah, but sometimes, the magician has to do bad magic in order to a) test our faith our b) for the purpose of a greater good.' Under which someone like me, with their permanent marker might choose to write something along the lines of 'Fuck off'. Thus ending an otherwise perfectly sensible bumper-based philosophical argument. I have a particular religious friend I go head-to-head with, and get very boring at dinner parties with on these sort of big questions, and, uh ... He always seems to think that to be skeptical is to be cynical. And that my view of the world sees no beauty. Which, I always argue, is not the case, I mean- I find the world a really exciting place. There are ideas that are a bit more science-y that are just as exciting as the kind of magic he wants, you know? Like- One of the greatest ideas of all time: evolution! The theory of natural selection, you know? Not only is it, um... um ... How do you say? right. I'm just practicing my timing for my American tour. Pause, 'right', and duck! Duck. Well, I mean, not only is it good science, bu it's also really thrilling, don't you think, this idea that an individual of a species can be born sort of mutated in a good way! And in the moment of that individual's birth that holds within its genetic code the potential for its entire species to take a huge evolutionaty leap forward. It's amazing! And I always think, what would life have been like being one of those individual mutant freaks? You know, what did the other kids think? Imagine being the first dude ever to have feet. I reckon that would be really tough. And also what I wonder is, how do these individual with their new bits, like, how do they figure out how to use them? Do they just stumble upon their potential purpose one day, just accidently, you know? Imagine you're a fish. And you're just swimming in the ocean with your school, and you're just hangin out, swimming, same as always, 'cause you're um, fish. And suddenly, out of nowhere, Tony Fucking Tony Tony just goes ... Uh... I'm getting out. Yeah, I'm, uh freezing. You're a fish, Tony. Yeah, well I'm a cold fish. I just wanna pop out for a bit, you know? Maybe lie on my towel. I'll bring you an ice-cream. - Yeah, don't bother, Tony, you're a freak. Come on, school, let's go. Let's otracize him for being different. Yeah, let's ostracize him, Tony's a freak. Let's ostracize him for being different. No, don't ostracize me. I'm just a little bit different. Oh, bugger you, then! I'll show you guys! Fuck me! Those are gonna come in handy! And imagine what Tony would think standing there on his brand new feet, on the brink of the beginnings of mankind as we know it, it- If he could look forward, just a few short hundreds of millions of years, to see one of his descendants, an Israeli jew by the name of Jesus, having a nail hammerd through his feet, -the very feet that Tony provided him with- as a punishment for having a sort of schizophrenic discourse with a god, who was created by men to explain the existence of feet in the absence of the knowledge of the existence of Tony. I think that would blow his little fishy mind. This religious friend of mine- Arguments often end with him telling me that I'm not really open-minded. And, because he's my friend and I respect him, I've written him a song. It's called 'If You Open Your Mind Too Much, Your Brain Will Fall Out'. Which I think is brilliant. That is so, so clever. Unfortunatly, I didn't come up with it myself, I read that in a book. So, to avoid copyright issues, I've given it a subtitle, uh, which is 'Take My Wife!' If anyone can show me one example in the history of the world Of a single psychic who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions that they are able to read minds And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single Astrologer who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions that they can predict future human events by interpreting celestial signs And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single Homeopathic Practitioner who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions that solutions made up of infinitely tiny particles of good stuff dissolved repeatedly into relatively huge quantities of water have a consistently higher medicinal value than a similarly administered placebo And if anyone can show me just one example in the history of the world of a single Spiritual person who has been able to show either logically or empirically the existence of a higher power with any consciousness or interest in the human race or ability to punish or reward humans for there moral choices or that there is any reason - other than fear - to believe in any version of an afterlife I will give you my piano, one of my legs, and my wife. I think that's important. I think that's important that, even if, you know, one's job -as it is in my case- is to entertain, uh, It's such an honour to have an audience like you, watching me for hours and hours on end. I think sometimes that I should respect that honour, by- by trying to do something with bit of a message in it, so it's not purely entertainment, but there is something you guys can take away, and in some way- Too grand, I am, but in some way of maybe I think, contribute to the betterment of the world, you know? So, I've got this song which adresses the environmental issue. About which I feel very strongly, and, um, I'd love to perform it for you now, in the hope that maybe we can contribute to the resolution of this issue. Hit it. Take your canvas bags When you go To the supermarket Why use plastic bags when you know You know the world cant take it Take your canvas bags When you go To the supermarket, market, market Dont you use those plastic ones No, no, no Dont you know that youll feel better for it Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags To the supermarket Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags To the supermarket Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags To the supermarket Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags To the supermarket Break it down! Take your canvas, take your canvas Take your canvas bags To the supermarket All the ladies in the house, come on and let me hear you say 'Canvas'! All the fellas in the house, come on and let me hear you say 'Bags'! Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags To the supermarket Just think about the world And how the world would be fantastic If we got rid of all the plastic We just need to get enthusiastic Organize a competition gymnastic Or a bag making comp at your school Fuck it, make it interscholastic Canvas is for everyone Whether you be rebellious and iconoclastic Or conservative or ecclesiastic I dont care if youre loud and bombastic Or quiet or virtually monastic Sober or on the floor spastic Yoga master or completely inelastic Im not trying to be ironic or sarcastic Just do something drastic Take your canvas bags Take your canvas bags ... to the supermarket Black out! This is an interval song This is an interval song This is an interval song Cause it's the interval. Who does the interval song? Pendant le filmage de ce spectacle, c'est ici que se trouvait l'entracte. Maintenant que c'est un DVD, il n'y a plus besoin d'entracte puisque l'invention du bouton pause les a rendu obsoltes. Mais si vous voulez une tasse de th, autant la faire maintenant. Sinon, attendez une petite seconde, parce que Tim va revenir. Ah, le voil. Thank you. Thank you. This is a song I wrote, uh... on the morning after I got married, to my wife. Weve got years ahead of us Weve got people who care for us Yeah, weve got Sunday morning coffees in the sun Weve got Monday night television Yeah, weve got years of happiness Weve got decades of laughter ahead Yeah, weve got Christmases with family by the sea Weve got wine and vintage cheddar Yeah, I have everything a man could ever want And all Ill ever need is you Cos nothing can stop us now Only the good times left Nothing can stop our love Except terminal illness Or sudden accidental death Thank you very much. Never gets a huge laugh, that one. Well I wake up in the morning at 11:47 and I cant believe I have to face the horror of another fucking day And the magnificent magnitude of my morning erection merely mocks me like the sun in its optimistic greeting of the day Managing to manifest a modicum of motivation I meander to the kitchen make a mission out of mixing Nescafe But the milk is going off and coffee by itself is bitter and theres ants all through the sugar and the supermarkets miles a-fucking-way My life is pretty sad But I know that I should be glad. I could be a starving Ethiope Or a policeman in Bagdad policeman in Bagdad Bagdad At 11:53 I instigate the days ablutions in the hope my constitution can be altered by some action on the bowel But the total non-existence of colonic animation seems to me the perfect metaphor for the utter constipation of my soul By 11:59 I have decided that my life would be immediately improved by a carefully written list of short-term goals But by 12.05 my list consists of 1-dot put some pants on, 2-dot go to the shop, buy some prunes and Panadol My life is pretty shit But I know I shouldnt whinge about it I could be a Palestinian Driving buses on the Gaza strip Yeah how bad can it be? Some people have it worse than me I could be a Ipswitch prostitute Or Gary Glitters family I have no right to cry Some people have it worse than I I could be a thalidomide kid With something in my eye something in my eye my eye At 12:30 I realise Im feeling so dejected that Ive totally neglected the beginning of the Jerry Springer show So I settle on the sofa try to focus an iota of my motor-neurones on the brilliant insights for which Jerry is known And although on any other day a show entitled Midgets Midget Midgets would excite me like a virgin at her year eleven ball Today those little jelly-wresting fellas fail to free me of my misery instead they simply serve to make me feel three foot tall But how bad can it be? Some people have it worse than me I could be a junior life saver on a Banderachi beach Or a woman in Afghanistan Or a Jew in the Klu Klux Klan Or the architect of the World Trade Centre Or a bobcat driver in Bam Iran I could have my identity mistaken As a bomber in an underground station Or I could be a peace-loving speech-writer In George Ws administration Yeah you know that I dont have the right To be unhappy with my life I could be Hitlers mother Or Shane Warnes wife And I know that I shouldnt be bitchin I could be in a worse position I could be a 3-nippled naturopath In the days of the Spanish in, the Spanish inquisition You know I have no right, no right to cry Some people have it much, much worse than I I could have a serious nut allergy And be shipwrecked on an island with a crate of Snickers bars A jar of Nutella and a fresh baked pecan pie Some people have it worse than I So, yes, I'm, um ... I'm married. I got married at 26. I got married quite young. I've been with the same woman for ... ages. In fact- This is another little personal thing, but um, I say- I'm telling you cos it's quite uncommon these days, In my generation, anyway. I actually lost my virginity to the woman I ended up marrying. It's not quite as sad as it sounds. But it's pretty fucking close to that. We're both in our thirties now, and one of the things that happens, if anyone's in a long-term relationship, and you haven't got kids yet, when you hit 30, The pressure to have kids just -- And it's ridiculous, because 30's just a number, you know? How do you know that, suddenly, you hit 30, and you're suddenly endowed with all the attributes a parent needs, you know, like selflessness, and ... And, like, when I hit 30, I remember An example : my thirtiest birthday diner, I remember, the sort of stuff we were talking about, the main conversation on my birthday diner was about what our last words would be. We all thought it was really important to have really kick-ass final words. Just in case, you know, we died sooner than we thought. We wanted to make sure we had something really good locked in. And ... And all I could come up with was 'Who's the world gonna revolve around now?' That's kinda where I was at. And it's ridiculous, cos this pressure to have kids, you think- You'd expect it from your parents, and from the- the ticking of your biological clock, or whatever, but- But the main pressure is good old-fashioned peer pressure, you know? Like, what you got smoking for, in your teens. Because all your mates are having kids, and you feel like 'Oh, not part of the cool club anymore. I should have a human too.' And it's ridic- Cos, Here you are at 30, suffering peer pressure. And it's worse than ever, mostly, I think, because of digital technologies. Because all my friends had cool little digital cameras, cos they're so cheap and accessible these days, and they're very proud, so it takes many photos, and they're 'Oh, look! There's absolutly not limit to the number of photos I can take! And I have broad-band internet, you know, digital technology. And so, every morning, I wake up and, there, sure enough, attached to an e-mail, is another 10x8-high resolution-colour photograph of another fucking miracle, you know ... And, eventually, it wears you down. It breaks you, these photos. You know? And you find yourself having this ... inevitable conversation that you thought you'd never have. You know the one. 'What are we wainting for?' You know? 'It's never gonna be the right time.' 'It's always gonna be tough, it's always gonna be financially difficult, but, Why don't we just do it? Why don't we just buy a digital camera?' So, we did. We did, we bought one! And, soon after, almost, it seems, as a result, we had a child. It's something about biology I don't understand, but, uh ... She's great, I've got a baby. She's 5 months now, she's really tiny. It seems she's, um ... largely our responsibility. One of the things that having a kid, um, stops you doing is having a lot of sex. Initially because the toilet bits aren't working very well. It's very- It's quite traumatic on the- on the- on the, uh, toilet bits. But, um- I should say 'toilet bits' a few more times. That is in general usage, isn't it ? You do all call your genitals your 'toilet bits', don't you ? Don't tell me I've made a horrible faux-pas! Turns out that only I call them my toilet bits. Anyway! The other reason- The other reason you don't have sex is just cos your focuses change. But I wanna tell you a story because it actually happened, unlike most of the crap that I talk about on stage. I was away doing a few shows, and my wife and my child were in Melbourne. And when you're whiles away from a child, suddenly there's sort of- My sexual-self re-arose and I thought, "Oh, I should- I should, you know, maybe start a little bit of flirting with my wife, in the hopes that when I get back to Melbourne, we'll just hop straight back on." You know. So I thought- Being a poet, I chose a text message as my ... as my missive of choice, and I sent her a message saying : "I love you in a sexy way." That'll work! And, um, she sent me one back almost immediatly that said: "The baby just vomited in my mouth." So, uh, that was fine, you know, I got the message, went home and cried while I masturbated. Speaking of sex, as I want to do a lot at the moment, one of the things that actually- If you're in a really long-term relationship, like, um, increasingly, for me, anyway, as I get on in this relationship, I find myself getting more and more sexually uh, paranoid. Not with my wife, we're totally fine, appart from the drought. But, um, what I worry about, is if I ever had to perform sexually with another woman. Like, with someone else. If I had to be sexual with someone else, like, if something happened to my marriage, like, if my wife died in an accident, or something. Sorry, that's- I don't find that funny, that's just my bad sense of humor. I do understand that that's "That should be her last words!" Yeah! She's not borrowing my fucking last words, I tell you that. If she dies in an accident, she'll think of her own. And, anyway, that wouldn't make sense, because it revolves around me. I shouldn't say that sort of stuff about my wife. Even if she didn't die, even if she, like, got a degenarative disease, and I decided that, rather than look after her myself, I should put her in a home, so that I could move on with my life- These things happen, you have to plan for them, that's all I'm saying. And when I'm planning for this stuff, and I consider having sex with another woman, um, what I- What I get paranoid about is: how do I know if what I'm doing sexually, at the moment, um, is normal? Cos, as far as I understand, my wife and I have a perfectly [?] sort of sexual relationship. But you never know, cos we've been together for a really long time, we might have just sort of just drifted, drifted from the norm. Just bits by bits, so we didn't notice. I've got this scenario, I play out in my head, where I'm out with a new girl, and, uh, and we're having a great time, and I don't know, we're at a bar or something, we've had a few drinks, and maybe it's our third date, it really doesn't matter. But, um, The bar closes, and I pluck up the courage to ask her back to my place, and she says yes, so we go back to my place, and I pour some more drinks, and put on some music, and some lamps. And then, obviously, we actually end up on the couch, and we kiss, and, uh, a little bit on with the jumper action, uh, it's heavy petting, and then, passion overwhelmes us, so we stumble to the bedroom, tearing off each other's clothes, and I get out the Mickey Mouse ears, and I length the bungee rope, and obviously, the Hungr Hungry Hippos. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, she's like What are you doing? Huh? I- I- I thought we were just going to make love! Yeah? Why don't you just put all that stuff away, just for a minute, just put it down, and come over here and, just touch me. Touch you? Before you've pissed in the hippos? I don't know what kind of weird shit you're into, lady, but if you don't piss in the hippos, how do you know who surfs first? If you really loved me the way you say you do If you love me half as much as I love you You would pluck a planet from the sky Youd use a star to dot the i In I love you that is what youd do Youd take a dreary sky and you would paint it blue If you loved me unconditionally These are the things that you would do for me Because I need you Like a fish needs the sea Like a fire needs oxygen Like a flower needs a bee And if you really cared for me Youd let me video you while you wee Standing up in the bath, I shouldnt even have to ask Perhaps youll even store a little more in a flask These are just the things that people do When their love for one another is true We go together Like a cracker and Brie Like racism and ignorance Like bling and R&B But if you really want to show you care Youd let me wear your underwear When we visit your mum, it's a bit of harmless fun I just like talking about your childhood with some lace between my buns Theres no reason for a big to-do If your love for one another is true We go together Like a bird and a nest Like Internet and porn Like guns and the US And if you love me like you say you do Youd purchase forty cockatoos And teach them to fly in formation in the sky And shit the words Tim is God on my ex-girlfriends Hyundai Sure, it might be easier with doves But shirking challenges is not what love Is all about Love is not all wine and roses Sometimes its handcuffs and cheese No-one said love is for free And if you agree with that Youd sing passages from the Coran wearing nothing but a Bob the Builder hat To the tune of waltzing Matilda I just love the combination of Islam, nationalism and builder builder Yeah, Islam nationalism And a little-bitty builder Yeah, I fucking love it. Yeah, Islam And Bob the fucking Builder! Bob the fucking Builder! Because I need you Like a tick needs a tock Like bananas need pyjamas Like a nun needs cock And if you want to put your love for me first You wouldnt go through childbirth Youd agree to adopt so that you could stay thin Well get a Chinese kid, it could teach us Mandarin And communists dont make as much noise And theyre really good at sharing their toys Because I dig you Like an Aussie digs pies Like Born-Agains dig Jesus Like Jesus dug guys And if you love me just a modicum You'd [?] of my perineum Stick a finger up my bum As I'm about to come I've heard it's quite acceptable and reasonably fun Not that I'm saying that I want you to But, hypothetically, it's something you might do If you loved me unconditionally Like letting me video you while you wee Assuming theres nothing worth watching on TV I'll tell you, um, uh, Palestine, eh? Things are really bad up there. The Muslim and the Jewish people don't seem to get along very well in Israel and Palestine. It's the craziness of the circular nature of the violence, like, every act of violence is just revenge for a previous act, and in turn we get another act, and, uh ... And it's hard to imagine how there's ever gonna be a lasting peace in the region, you know, because of the circular, the self- perpetuating nature of the violence, and I was thinking about this the other day, and I thought Maybe- maybe the solution's not gonna be one of these huge solutions that, sort of [?] in the papers each day, and maybe it won't a military intervention or ... -god forbid- or a geographical thing, or a diplomatic solution. But maybe- maybe what it's gonna be is, like, a seed. Like maybe, maybe peace has to come from a peace-seed. That's, like- Someone plants in the region, and it grows into a, like a tree of peace. With branches that reach out over the whole region, over both Israel and Palestine, shadowing it with its peace branches. It's a metaphor! Anyway, I was thinking about this. I was thinking about this,and I thought : Maybe! Maybe this seed, like, maybe, all they need is a really good peace-anthem. So I've taken the liberty of penning a little something, and, uh, and I thought it would be wise to bouce it off a relatively impartial crowd, here, in my home country, before I actually pop over there, and start basking on the Gaza strip. So this is my peace-anthem for Palestine. Obviously, being an anthem, there'll be opportunity, towards the end, for you to sing along. If you know the words. We don't eat pigs, You don't eat pigs, It seems it's been that way forever So if you don't eat pigs, And we don't eat pigs, Why not, not eat pigs together? Pigs. We don't eat pigs, You don't eat pigs, It seems it's been that way forever So if you don't eat pigs, And we don't eat pigs, Why not, not eat pigs together, together? Pigs. Pigs. Pigs. We don't eat pigs, What, wha- Wait, wait, wait, ? We don't eat pigs, You don't eat pigs, It seems it's been that way forever Sing! So if you don't eat pigs, And we don't eat pigs, Why not, not eat pigs together, why not? Why not, not eat pigs together? One more time! Why not, not eat pigs together, why not? Rock! You know how in, um, Hollywood Mills & Boon novels and stuff, there's this myth perpetuated that, uh, that, uh, love should happen at first sight. Or that, if it does, it's more valuable or something, and I've written a love song to, sort of, redress that. Well, it's a nice song, it's- cos it reminds me that love creeps up on you, you know? And, uh, Sometimes, when you're least expecting it. Often when you don't really want it. So, um, this is a ... This is a love song about that creepy-uppy kinda love. You grew on me like a tumour And you spread through me like malignant melanoma And now youre in my heart I shouldve cut you out back at the start Now Im afraid theres no cure for me No dose of emotional chemotherapy Can halt my pathetic decline I shouldve had you removed back when you were benign I picked you up like a virus Like meningococcal meningitis Now I cant feel my legs When youre around I cant get out of bed Ive left it too late to risk an operation I know theres no hope of a clean amputation The successful removal of you Would probably kill me too You grew on me like carcinoma Crept up on me like untreated glaucoma Now I find it hard to see This untreated dose of you has blinded me I shouldve consulted my local physician Im stuck now forever with this tunnel vision My periphery is screwed Wherever I look now, all I see is you When we first met you seemed fickle and shallow But my armour was no match for your poison arrow You are wedged inside my breast If I tried to pull you out now I might bleed to death Im feeling short of breath You grew on me like a tumour And you spread through me like malignant melanoma I guess I never knew How fast a little mole can grow on you Tell you something, I worry, um, because I"m just about playing my last song, and- You want me to stop now? That's, um- I meant, I meant- That was a little joke about me interpreting that as "Oh, don't play your last song." But what it sounds like "Do you want me to stop now?", like a teacher. I didn't mean, like- I mean the first one, the low status one, not the high status one. I worry that because- because a lot of my songs are sort of a little bit comic, or, like a little bit light-hearted, that, um, that, that people are gonna leave my show thinking that I lack depth. And I don't, I don't want that. So, to relay that fear, I always finish on this song. Which I've written in the key of C sharp Minor. See what I'm saying? And to kind of add to this sense of profundity created by the key, I tend to change the lights as well. Paul, have you got those, um, those, uh, reds. Yeah. You know what I'm saying, like a- And with this lighting state, combined with minor key, I think, mostly people leave my show, hopefully having had a good time and everything, but also thinking "Yeah, that guy is really deep." So this is a, uh- This is a song called 'Dark Side'. And, uh, I'll see you at the other end. I can have a dark side If you want me to I can have a dark side I can develop my brooding potential If pains what you want in an act Pain I can do I can have a dark side too I can have a dark side too Hey! Yeah! I called my girlfriend up on the phone I said, Hey g-girlfriend whats g-going wrong? She said, Im breaking it off with you I feel as if the ma-ma-magic has gone I said, Hey baby whatre you talking about? I thought that everything was just fine She said, Thats exactly the point I just get so annoyed how youre so happy all the time I need somebody deeper than you Someone with a little third-dimension I said, Well, I can have a dark side If you want me to I can have a dark side I can develop my brooding potential If pains what you want in a man Pain I can do I can have a dark side too I can have a dark side I can have a dark side I can have a dark side Hey! I wrote a letter to Mr Sony Said, Hey S-sony whats g-going down? Ive got a record and I reckon its wicked And I th-think you should s-spread it around He said, Hey Tim, I quite like your work He said Its clever and quirky But I promise you this You could be clever as Voltaire But it wont get you nowhere If you wanna sell discs Clever never made no one rich It doesnt appeal to the teenage market The teenage market! Well, I can have a dark side If you want me to I can have a dark side I can reveal my tortured internals If pains what you want in an act Pain I can do I can have a dark side too I can have a dark side too Daddy never came to my ball games Where are you daddy? Daddy never came to my ball games He never loved me Daddy never came to my ball games Daddy never came Daddy never came to my ball games Daddy never came Daddy never came to my ball games Daddy never came And I, I can have a dark side If you want me to If you want me to And I, I can have a dark side If you want me to I can have a dark side too I, I can have a dark side If you want me to Yeah, I can have one If you want me to Yeah I, I can have a dark side If you want me to Rock! Thank you. Because of your very positive reaction, I'm gonna do one more song. If your reaction had have been less positive, I would have had to think of another reason. Hey, You know that feeling, I think we all get that feeling sometimes, this feeling- You know that feeling you get when you feel like you're the smallest doll in a Babooshka doll? This is a song about that. This is my Earth And I live in it Its one third dirt And two thirds water And it rotates and revolves through space At rather an impressive pace And never even messes up my hair And heres the really weird thing The force created by its spin Is the force that stops the chaos flooding in This is my Earth And its fine Its where I spend the vast majority of my time Its not perfect But its mine Its not perfect This is my country And I live in it Its pretty big And nice to walk on And the bloke who runs my country Has built a demagoguery And tought us to be fearful and boring And the weirdest thing is that he is Conservative of politics But really rather radical of eyebrow This is my country And its fine Its where I spend the vast majority of my time Its not perfect But its mine Its not perfect This is my house And I live in it Its made of cracks And photographs We rent it off a guy who bought it from a guy Who bought it from a guy Whose grandad left it to him And the weirdest thing is that this house Has locks to keep the baddies out But theyre mostly used to lock ourselves in This is my house And its fine Its where I spend the vast majority of my time Its not perfect But its mine Its not perfect But it's mine This is my body And I live in it Its 31 And 6 months old Its changed a lot since it was new Its done stuff it wasnt built to do I often try to fill it up with wine And the weirdest thing about it is I spend so much time hating it But it never says a bad word about me This is my body And its fine Its where I spend the vast majority of my time Its not perfect But its mine Its not perfect This is my brain And I live in it Its made of love And bad song lyrics Its tucked away behind my eyes Where all my fucked up thoughts can hide Cos God forbid I hurt somebody And the weirdest thing about a mind Is that every answer that you find Is the basis of a brand new clich This is my brain And its fine Its where I spend the vast majority of my time Its not perfect But its mine Its not perfect But its mine Its not perfect Im not quite sure Ive worked out how to work it Its not perfect But its mine |
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