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When I first met you you hadn’t much to say
Can you believe that?
I should have seen that
Under the surface you were bubbling away and soon it seeps out
Now day it appears that
You test my patience amongst many other things
Then you are so good at passing tests
You’ve learned of ships and sealing wax of cabbages and kings
But you never learned how to keep it erect
You feel you need to appear smart it’s as see through as a glass and what’s more you are too clever by half
Now I concede I don’t always pay full heed to your many various moods and affections
But keep in mind I’d be much further inclined if you were not always referencing Frenchmen
I’m not saying give up school and start driving a cab
I’m all in favour of your self-improvements
But sometimes intellectual muscles breed pontificating flab
It’s restricting you from easy fluid movements
Give up reading in the bath let your hair down have a laugh please try not to be too clever by half
So please put down the Baudelaire next to Winnie the pooh
How did you become so damn didactic?
Of course that’s quite rhetorical
Look who’s just been voted mayor he looks a lot like you
Playing stupid was his winning tactic
Your ingenious remarks betray your remedial start now when I say it don’t take it to heart
But all my previous remarks leave this wisdom to impart:
Sometimes you are far too clever by half
It’s oh so clear you’re too clever by half
Oh dear my dear you’re too clever by half
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2. |
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Can you hear the armchair fascists’ mantra they breathe?
That Britain’s for the British and we’re no longer free
And this whole nation’s going to the dogs
And it’s time to say enough is enough
But Britain for the British doesn’t mean anything
You just don’t want to look stupid if you disagree
with your Daily hate-Mail second hand opinions
As you recline in your National Front-room
Britain for the British doesn’t mean anything
When the British way is rule the waves, create colonies
And close the borders in the opposite direction
I didn’t draw these boundaries – why should I respect them?
Well it’s clear that you need a father figure
But you seem to think that you need a fatherland
I’m sure you all look very smug trading jack boots in for black suits
But maybe you should loosen the armband
Cos enough is enough doesn’t mean anything
It’s a circular statement, a tautology
You may as well preach that eggs is eggs
It might sound good but’s essentially meaningless
Enough is enough doesn’t mean anything
Statements like that are ten a penny
How about boys will be boys? What will be will be?
No sound grounds for immigration policy
Well I find it ever harder to listen
To your increasingly ludicrous right-wing views
Which if you really followed through would mean you left the country too
After all, the Celts were here before you
Before you
I'm sure it’s comfy in your armchair because that way you’re in no danger
Hope it’s comfy in your armchair cos I know you pose no threat there
I’m sure it’s comfy in your armchair cos that way you are no danger
Sure it’s comfy in your armchair but you should get out and taste the British air
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He was cut from the cloth of the finest minds we have
Could have been just anything
And now through casting and make-up
In a way he has
Since he was cast for the part he’s been a servant to the craft
Without ever having seen a RADA class
Now he just can’t wait
Can’t wait suffer for his art
CHORUS
It’s role he was born to play
The kid’s the making of a real heavyweight star
Now he’s acting with a capital A
The supporting cast all know their lines
But he always prefers to improvise
Commercial failure with critical acclaim
When he treats the boards he’s never overawed
He always leaves the audience floored
And he’s so subtle so nuanced
He never gets too broad
Oh he’s due great things anybody could predict it
So obvious it could be scripted
And when the season comes
He should be up for the major awards
CHORUS
The kid’s a natural – a real performer
And he looks good without make-up
The lights go up the cameras flash
Are you ready for your close-up?
CHORUS (first half)
All the world’s a stage
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5. |
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I shot Jill Dando
Now she is in heaven
I thought that it was Evan
This is my confession
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6. |
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How I love eating Jesus
I love to eat him up
He's so tasty and righteous
I just can't get enough
When at communion mass
My special Sunday club
I eat up his all body
And drink up all his blood
How I love eating Jesus
I really must insist
He would taste just delicious
With guacamole dip
He may be high in starch
And lead to tooth decay
But doctor says I can have
One glass of him a day
How I love eating Jesus
I just can't get enough
I've eaten so much Jesus
I could make a whole one
By drinking up his blood
I take a special gift
For like a vampire (if) I drink
Forever shall I live
Forever shall I live
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12. |
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oh the shark has teeth so lethal but they shine like silver plates
just a jackknife has mackheath but you won't see it 'til it's too late
on a wonderful blue monday see a corpse layed out in the strand
and a figure hides in a doorway with a jackknife in his hand
by the docklands the stench lingers of fermented, bloody guts
if you know the shark from the bites then tell me who could have left these awful cuts
by the thames' turgid banks they found another left out in the rain
with no ID or money, just a note that says i will kill again
did you hear about the barmaid's daughter? she was her mother's only pride and joy
violated in her slumber, oh mackheath you have been a very naughty boy
the newspapers all called a bounty. if you see him go ahead and name your price
so far no-one has come forward we all see him every time we close our eyes
there are those who live in darkness, there are others who dwell in light
and we see the ones in brightness, those in dark they fade from sight
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13. |
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No return to Caprica
Deliver us all from harm
Trust commander Adama
Straight as Apollo's true dart
I know you are our only hope
Like Apollo's Arrow
So say we all
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14. |
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15. |
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16. |
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17. |
Dice Man
02:39
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18. |
an Occupation
02:42
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19. |
Your Lunch Break (live)
03:37
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There's a bit at the end where you can actually hear the lyrics - so keep listening!
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Raymond Detritus London, UK
raymond detritus is a fake man playing real music. previously a bit anti-folk, now just anti-everything.
raymonddetritus@hotmail.com
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