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Главная » 2010 » Февраль » 23 » Tim MinchinTim Minchin | 22:01 |
He looks at me intensely 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 it’s semi-erect I feel I’d 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 his fantasy cock He delivers his philosophy I reckon it don’t matter It don’t 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 chick and my dogs have an en-suite bathroom each That I’ve already reached my first million and I’m only 26 You’re 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 That I’d give it all up like that He leaves me to ponder his wisdom for a bit And with a click of his fingers Beckons the blondest, bimbo-est barmaid And grinning ridiculously Orders a G and T And a beer, for me And before I can escape He’s back saying Cos mate, the thing is All of that crap It’s all superficial It’s all just a front Anyone can be a rich cunt But the thing we all want Can’t be bought with dosh You know what I mean boss? Cos you don’t give a toss That when I want to get slim I’ve got my own private gym And a personal trainer called Danielle or Darlene She’s got tits Like those chicks In Ralph magazine And it’s 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 That 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 a form And that this postulating, peroxided porn-star prick ain’t 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 I’m trying to say In my own little way Is that I reckon that musos and artists and that Well I reckon they’re great I know some people reckon you guys just sit on your bums And don’t get out of bed til the pizza man comes And smoke cones And take crack And wack-off all day But I don’t care what they say And I don’t listen to people Who say that all actors are gay Not that I don’t think that’s OK As far as I’m concerned Although it’s not my bag If you wanna be a fag Be a fag y’know? 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 He’s 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 he’s starting to dribble As he dribbles on and fucking on But you musos are alright I don’t know much about music But I know what I like And I reckon I’d throw it all in To be like you Jim 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 earn from a really nice car Or a tennis court Or holidays in Greece Or a house on the beach Or stock market shares Or twenty-one pairs Of Calvin Klein undewear Do you understand you are a wealthy, wealthy man I mean I don’t want to piss in your pocket But i’ve gotta say Before I get on my way That honestly, and I’m not having you on I reckon on day you could play the piano as good as Elton John The cops are still mingling Though the crowd’s shuffled out I’ve got ice on my hand Where my fist met his mouth And although I explained That it wasn’t my fault I’ve a five hundred buck fine For aggravated assault So before it gets worse I reckon I’ll bolt A wealthy, wealthy man In a 1981 Mitsubishi Colt If you really loved me 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 You’d use a star to dot the "i” In I love you… that is what you’d do You’d take a cloudy sky and you would paint it blue If you loved me unconditionally It’s the very least you’d do for me You know I need you Like a fish needs the sea Like a fire needs oxygen Like a flower needs a bee But if you really care for me You’d let me video you while you wee Standing up in the bath, I shouldn’t even have to ask Perhaps you’ll 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 niggers and R&B But if you really want to show you care You’d let me wear your underwear When we go to your mum’s, for a bit of harmless fun I just like talking about your childhood with lace between my buns There’s no reason for a big to-do If your love for me is really truly true We go together Like a bird and a nest Like Internet and kiddie-porn Like guns and the US And if you love me like you say you do You’d purchase thirty cockatoos And teach them to fly… in formation in the sky And shit the words "Tim is God” on my ex-girlfriend’s 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 it’s handcuffs and cheese No-one said love is for free And if you acknowledge that You’d sing me Bible stories wearing nothing but your Bob the Builder hat To the tune of waltzing Matilda I just love the combination of Islam, nationalism and builder Because I need you Like a tick needs a tock Like bananas need pyjamas Like a nun needs cock But if you want to put your love for me first You wouldn’t go through childbirth You’d agree to adopt so that you could stay thin We’ll get a Chinese kid, it could teach us Mandarin And communists don’t make as much noise And they’re 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 unconditionally You’d do my tax return for me Cos it’s way overdue, and I just don’t know, I guess I’m self-employed but do I still pay as I go? And does the threshold apply to me? And should I register for GST And if you love me unconditionally You’ll let me video you while you wee? Assuming there’s nothing worth watching on TV Inflatable you 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 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 Commutable, refutable 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 I clean it all up with a tissue I bet my jealous friend all wish you Were insatiably inflatably theirs. Don’t let me down. Don’t let me down. Don’t let me down. And I won’t let you down. 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 with 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 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 shimmering 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 me 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 in the scrum. 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 that 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 Witha 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 downwith his big stiff rod of justice, I'm gonna be the first to go, He's gonna send me down below, He's gonna whip me like a cotton-pickin' negro, I'm gonna be the first to go. Christmas song I'm looking forward to Christmas It's sentimental I know, but I just really like it I'm, I'm hardly religious I'd rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu to be honest And yes I have all of the usual objections to consumerism The commercialisation of an ancient religion And the western-isation of a dead Palestinian Press-ganged into selling PlayStations and beer But I still really like ita I, I really like Christmas Though I'm not expecting a visit from Jesus I'll be seeing my dad My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum They'll be drinking white wine in the sun I'll be seeing my dad My sisters and brother, my gran and my mum We'll be drinking white wine in the sun I don't go for ancient wisdom I don't believe just 'cause ideas are tenacious it means that they're worthy I get freaked out by churches Some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords But the lyrics are dodgy And yes I have all of the usual objections to the mis-education of children into a cult institution And taughted to externalise blame And to feel ashamed And to judge things as plain right and wrong But I quite like the songs. I'm not expecting big presents The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate is just fine by me 'Cause I'll be seeing my dad My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum They'll be drinking white wine in the sun And you my baby girl My jetlagged infant daughter You'll be handed round the room Like a puppy at a primary school And you're too young to know But you will learn yourself one day That wherever you are and whatever you face These are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world My sweet blue-eyed girl And if my baby girl When you're twenty-one or thirty-one And Christmas comes around And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home You'll know whatever comes Your brother and sister, and me and your mum Will be waiting for you in the sun Girl, when Christmas comes Your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles Your grandparents, cousins, and me and your mum Will be drinking white wine in the sun We'll be waiting for you in the sun Baby, whenever you come We'll be drinking white wine in the sun Waiting. I, I really like Christmas It's sentimental I know ______________________________ Если ты действительно любишь меня Твоя любовь ко мне бесспорна | |
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