Showing posts with label concept. Show all posts
Showing posts with label concept. Show all posts

Friday, 1 February 2013

"Track 1" [a short story]

It was round about midnight when we rolled into Nebraska
How exactly we were going to hunt down our favoured Asian mystic in the light
- I was not sure
My thought train shattered by the crooning beside me -
Loretta was hungry and it dawned philosophical enlightenment would not be possible
with her a'caterwauling
Pulling into an all-night burger joint
A glint in the rearviewmirror reminds me of a spherical lampshade I used to own.
"Man of the moment" Steven Bunting serves up several super-sized and as the lukewarm meat ingests I reflect on my journey

Back in the Caddy' the sounds of "Devia Kokomo" from the radio blast
If intrauterine genocide punk were a style - these cats sure played it well
Her belly full of meat, Loretta drifts off beside me
The radio barely audible over her snoring
Pulling up at a red light I just make out the announcement "...war"
President Robert Buttons taking on China? O ladyboy-ladyboy!
Like my fifth time on acid suddenly this trip's taken a turn for the worse
And that's when it dawned -

I'd come all this way for an Asian mystic to predict my future?
My future had just fallen into place
- I needed to escape this country before the draft came in.
I'm heading for the coast - it's decided
First task, leave Loretta somewhere
Second task?

Sunday, 19 November 2006

"The Morning Saga"

Written as Steve and I were finishing off Hard Rock Hotel, The Garibaldis' by this point a two-man outfit. I was mightily depressed at my close friend David's departure and from this void came a burst of violent creativity. In one-sitting I wrote the music and words for "The Morning Saga", a seven-part suite; an acoustic demo version of which featured on my hastily compiled debut solo album, From the Wonderous Mind... in the summer of 2010. It is an early example of automatic writing, or more accurately, 'automatic song-writing.'



THE MORNING SAGA
Monday
Morning the start of the week can I face another seven days? Morning time to get up what lies ahead I don’t know and never shall unless I rise. It’s Monday my friend, it’s Monday my friend. Monday I feel so rough, recover, stains on the sheets; who did I do? Last night in a daze? The start of the week seven more days…

Tuesday
Tuesday morning I feel quite refreshed, the sun is shining to ease me out of rest. In several hours I’ll be back on my job, kind of depressing, I feel like eating hog: so I ate and I ate and I ate and I ate, I licked the last of the hog right off of my plate: a hearty meal at the start of the day help’s the brain, that’s what they say. Half an hour later and I’m on the train to work, the day seems so much brighter than yesterdays depressing murk; the train’s rather packed but I’m not claustrophobic which is a relief, cos’ if I was, chances are I’d have passed out by now. So I travelled and I travelled and then I got to work, the boss said I looked a mess which really did quite hurt! I ignored his comments and sat down at my desk, where after a lengthy burp I had a heart attack.


Wednesday
Wake up, smell of disinfectant in the air. I look up and guess who is standing there - the doctor! Says hello “You had a heart attack, now you’re in hospital, pal” Oh thank you, I tell him and get a strong urge to eat a cow - I say to him: Doctor is there any chance of you purchasing a cow for me to eat? He turns and laughs says “you are a silly idiot!” Excuse me? I say - he says “you don’t realise why you had a heart attack do you?” No, is my reply, he says it’s cos’ I consumed a hog all in at the same time I like my food I told him, needless to say, he wasn’t impressed: “Well you’re doing fine” he told me “just hold back on the hog’s and don’t get depressed or stressed” I packed a little suitcase with my bed gown, said “goodbye, nurses! Hope I’ll never see you around!”


Thursday
Thursday hits you a like a train but does not stop there only two more days to go then the weekend is here! Get up give the wife a kiss - wow forgot I even had a wife - where was she yesterday? While I was fighting for my life? Why do I like Thursdays so much? I just don’t know. It’s only past mid-week which this week’s been slow when did I get married? Christ, do I have kids? Why do I like Thursdays so much? I just don’t know? Time to take the kids to school - what happened on Monday? They must have taken themselves along, wow this is getting weird. Time to visit the doctor ask him if this is normal: to forget you’ve got a wife and kids, I think I’m going to faint…


Friday
Wake in a daze: I’ve been here before… Distinct smell, polished floors? Yep. It’s hospital. Twice in one week. Some record… What happened yesterday? Here’s the doc: excuse me! "Ah, yes, back again are we! I thought you said you were to avoid us? Not doing a very good job are we sir? Well I suppose you’re wondering what’s wrong? Well the reason you’re here is that your mind is playing tricks on you. No, you don’t have children. No, you don’t have a wife. You’re just a dirty old no-gooder, who dreamt of having a job and a real life. Ever woken up to stains on the bed? That’s because you’re a paedophile. You should be in prison but they let you out on the basis that you mind was all screwed up. Every day is different to you. You put yourself in new scenarios, you could say your life is one big saga – every day you’re someone new. Yesterday you fainted, hit your head after walking aimlessly around the streets shouting for your wife and children. On Tuesday, you had a heart attack because you ate a whole hog in under 17 minutes – thinking you had to be at work. You turned up in some office and no-one knew who you were. But look on the bright side, you have no life, but, it’s Friday morning!" I’ve woken up, it’s Friday! The end of the week what more can I say? Gonna go out get boozed up take home some girl let my anger out. I get my kicks from beating little girls it makes me feel big, I like it if their hair’s curled. People think I’m bad but it turns me on so look out Clapham cos’ I’m on the pull! Friday! Pack my bag again leave his damn ward maybe go on holiday? The Caribbean looks nice at this time of year, think I’ll do some robbing to fund my trip. I get my kicks from being a nasty man, I go through phases I just don’t understand; sometimes I forget myself - believe I’m someone that I’m not - but now my head’s clean I’m gonna party like its 1994!


Saturday
Aching head, what did I do last night? I’m lying cold on the floor feel like I’ve had a fight. Come to my senses, look all around a familiar sight greets me this morning: I’m in prison again. I'm in prison again. Policeman comes to call says I’ve done wrong, I beat to death a kid - a girl - who I impregnated. I swear that’s the fourth this month, I’m getting used to doing time; drugs and drink and stuff, memories of a past life. I'm in prison again. I'm in prison again. Time to get a move on, time to go to court - I know this is deja-vu of one particular sort. I think amongst my fantasies, in one life I lived a life - a butcher by the day a murderer by night; I'm in prison again...


Sunday
Up all night since yesterday all cos’ I’m on the run, no time to sleep no time to think just run-run run-run run! No looking back to see if the coppers are catchin’ up, if I get caught this time round they’ll throw away the key. I’ve lived a thousand lives and all in one week, I've been so many faces I forget which is me! No point talking my way outta this one if I did what they said: murderer? Paedophile? That sounds about right, I’d be better off dead. Hate, pain, all in one week, no refrain. On the run, no turning back, I could just stop running and have a laugh - but I won’t. Monday: start of the week, Tuesday: ate to much hog, Wednesday: hospital daze, Thursday: one of my turns, Friday: tripping out, Saturday: if only I could remember! Mornings pass here and there who knows what the next seven days will bring...

Monday, 13 November 2006

"Ten-Pin Rehab"

A set of lyrics for an unfinished song intended for an extended version of Hard Rock Hotel, provisionally titled "Off Cutts". Unsurprisingly this track - along with another 22 songs split between myself and Steve - never got finished (or in some cases started) for that project. On reflection, these lyrics wouldn't have added anything significant to the HRH narrative.


TEN-PIN REHAB
Going down the bowling alley
Knock down all those pins
Makes me feel real damn happy
The strength it takes to win
Pickin’ up a big fat ball
‘N lobbing it down the track
Just to take my mind off drugs
And the sins I’ve commited over the years, innit!
Going down the bowling alley
Tonight at twelve
Time has no concept
In my little World
Gonna bash some little pins
With a huge big bowling ball
Power feels so damn good
Even though I’m small!

Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah!
Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah!
Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah!
Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah!
Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah!
Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah!
Ten-pin, rehab
Oh yeah! – I’m gonna play to forget about all the sins I’ve commited!

Sunday, 22 October 2006

"An Angel with the Devil's Eyes"

Penultimate song from Hard Rock Hotel is in-fact the albums narrative conclusion. A satanic resolution to the concept not too surprising when compared with The Garibaldis' released material at the time. These lyrics seem to have been written apart from my previous contributions to that album, I can't recall any particular reason for having left them until later but the October date coincides with the HRH sessions. An abridged "radio edit" of the track appeared as b-side to the 2007 "Hotel" single, presumably just for filler as the track isn't remotely radio friendly and works perfectly in it's original incarnation.


AN ANGEL WITH THE DEVIL’S EYES
Rubbing salt in the wounds
Kicking whilst I’m sprawled on the floor
Pain I can feel, but this is something else
I cannot explain the betrayal ruining through my veins

You walk the earth
But not as a man
I could kneel for days
Longing for your hand
You represent
All that is true
Yet inside that shell
No soul is concealed

Renowned worldwide
People fear to look down deep behind his eyes
Luring is his sight and smell
But he will take you down to hell
It seems the devil’s my best friend
And I can feel life coming to a slow, slow end

You walk the earth
But not as a man
I could kneel for days
Longing for your hand
You represent
All that is true
Yet inside that shell
No soul is concealed
Happy to spend my day with him
Recounting my every sin
Sitting there he knows all truths
I feel myself dying somehow

An angel with the devil’s eyes
Feel my body start to rise
Possession within me
No room to break free
Feel him taking my final breath
As if it’s all a test
The end is too close for me
I see my life before my eyes!
Death depression hatred sin
Feel like I am fitting in
No turning back from what I’ve done
What goes around again has come
Salvation is a memory
Heaven’s locked – I lost the key
An angel with the devil’s eyes
Tempted me I took a bite
Into him I took a glance
Hell’s bells toll a final chime… for me!

You represent all that is true
But I know better now ‘cos I’m no fool
Fight for days to stay alive
But my chance has passed on by...

Sunday, 9 July 2006

"The Olde Butcher Blues"

I attempted to cram the entire back-story of Hard Rock Hotel's protagonist into this one song. And succeeded. Like Marmite this tune has its lovers and haters - the former in shape of my good friend Robert Heart; latter my good friend Steve Wicked. It was a shame the HRH concept never achieved its full potential, David Picklesworth's departure from the band being the catalyst of recording and writing problems. Several times in subsequent years myself and Steve have discussed re-recording songs, remodelling the album and even completing an early 30-song draft entitled "Off Cutts". Something for the future perhaps.


THE OLDE BUTCHER BLUES
Growing was real nice
Dreamed of havin’ a wife
And many little kids
Yeah, the butchers life!
But now I feel strange
From inside comes a rage
An urge to kill
Since I took some dodgy pill
The guy said it was good
Kinda tasted of wood
But I didn’t complain
Within minutes I was insane

I saw my life flash before me
In yellow, green and blue!
Realised the life of a butcher
Just wasn’t the thing to do
So I gave up my dreams
Of kids and a busty wife
Went back to my dealer
Bought a bag of those “pills of life”

Looking back on old days
Which now are a haze
Remembered once upon a time
As a kid, I stole some wine!
Got home and got caught
Parents all fraught
So I said to them:
Screw your rules!
I’m gonna grow up some day
To live a life of play!
To which dad replied,
With bulging bloodshot eyes
“You’ll grow up to cut meat,
That or be a doctor of feet
That’s what yer mum does
And she doesn’t fuss!”
I don’t want to cut meat!
Or doctor smelly feet!
I want to live life to the full
With a country house and a pet bull
That’s all I remember
Of my childhood
Two seconds later
I was pouring blood
My dad kicked me in the head
“Ow!” that’s what I said
And that’s where memories end
My dear old listening friend: the chorus!

I saw my life flash before me
In yellow, green and blue!
Realised the life of a butcher
Just wasn’t the thing to do
So I gave up my dreams
Of kids and a busty wife
Went back to my dealer
Bought a bag of those “pills of life”

The message behind this fable
Is to keep your feet off the table
As I experienced as a child
When my dad caught me bein’ wild
I was jumping on the table
When I shudda been eating my food
My dad got real angry
And in a bad mood
Next thing I knew
I was on the floor
My arm was broken
And there was blood once more
All these memories
Tell me to keep away
From fathers all over
Tomorrow and today
I advise you to grow up
With no enemies
Until the day comes for you
To try some drugs then decide: “You know what, screw life! I can’t be arsed!”

I saw my life flash before me
In yellow, green and blue!
Realised the life of a butcher
Just wasn’t the thing to do
So I gave up my dreams
Of kids and a busty wife
Went back to my dealer
Bought a bag of those “pills of life”

Looking back on my life
Alone, with no wife
Come to the conclusion:
It’s better to do drugs and be miserable and alone than not do drugs and feel bad about life anyway
Those were my old butcher blues!

Wednesday, 5 July 2006

"Empty Inside and Out"

Lyrically continuing the conceptual narrative of Hard Rock Hotel adequately; musically this song stood out when The Garibaldis' performed it live in 2009, going down well with the crowd who in turn elevated its performance. Unfortunately, as with much of the original album, the studio recording is under-par.


EMPTY INSIDE AND OUT
Coming to terms with what I’ve done
Should probably hide, should probably run
I stretch out my hand, but no-ones there
What happened to life, does anyone care?

Empty on the inside and I’m empty on the out
Empty on the inside and I’m empty on the out

Clearing up the evidence from my possessions
Coming to terms with just what I’ve done
Time to make a run for it, how did it come to this?
Two years ago I had no troubles: the butcher’s life I miss!

Empty on the inside and I’m empty on the out
Empty on the inside and I’m empty on the out
Empty on the inside (I’m empty on the out!)

Wait a second, can somebody tell me who I am?
Lost in a daydream between the future and the past
Can someone help me? Can someone help me?
I’m lost on the inside, and the out
Followed by a deadly doubt
Will be caught, ever found out?
I’ve got an urge to eat some trout!

Thinking back to how have changed
Feeling different, feeling strange
Killing a person just isn’t right
But a massacre just ain’t polite!

Empty on the inside (I’m empty on the out!)
Empty on the inside (I’m empty on the out!)

Tuesday, 4 July 2006

"Bus Spottin'"

A quieter number from Hard Rock Hotel in which the album's narrator describes his state of induced disconnect. I believe this is Steve's favourite track from the album (along with "The Hotel" of course!) and perhaps it prophetically reflects his own personal struggle with prescription drugs which, in 2012, resulted in admission to rehab.


BUS SPOTTIN’
Passing away, time doesn’t exist anymore
Stuck in the hotel, sprawled across the floor
Blackness ahead, yet vivid colours I see:
Green and red, buses driving over me

No sound can be heard, all alone
Feeding the thirst up here on my throne
Looking down on the people below
Each catching buses, but where-to we’ll never know

One day there’s a chance
A sound will be heard
A taste will be sensed
A touch finally felt
That day is a million moons from now
Yet I’m content in this bubble
Bouncing through the streets…
No-one notices as they board their buses:
Some green, some red – flying high

I don’t recall a time, when time was there
Yet I’m content, here on my own
Bus spotting: green and red
Red                  and                   green

Sunday, 2 July 2006

"Just Because I Wasn't Born to Slaughter!"

A not-particularly amusing track given a rather exuberantly silly performance on the Hard Rock Hotel recording. The song proceeds "Empty Inside and Out" conceptually, however precedes that track on the finalised 2008 edition of the album for some reason. That same year, Steve and I revisited "Just Because..." on the first EP of The Garibaldis' "Unplugged Series".


JUST BECAUSE I WASN’T BORN TO SLAUGHTER!
Standing before the court all alone
All ‘cause I felt the urge to snap some bone
What’s going on, all the people just stare
Feeling as though, I really should care

No hold of my life – because I’m going down
Locked behind bars in the blackness of downtown
Hell hath no fury like I did that day
Now I’m paying the price for the slay

Didn’t have long to wait ‘till I was found
Can’t say it was easy running from the law!
Now they know.
Now they know.
Didn’t expect to never be found
When you commit a murder life is far from sound!

No hold of my life – because I’m going down
Locked behind bars in the blackness of downtown
Hell hath no fury like I did that day
Now I’m paying the price for the slay

Holding on to what I’ve got, maybe for one last time!
Standing tall against the jury pleading guilty for my crime!
Glad I don’t remember how I used to be
Glad that I’m not seen like this by my distant family

Locked up in a cell all night before they let me plea
Twenty-four hour surveillance no sneaking in a key
Now they know.
They all know.
Praying for some sorry reason I don’t even know why
Gone is my chance for salvation - no point starting to cry

Just because I wasn’t born to slaughter!
Just because I was caught in cold blood
Just because I wasn’t born to slaughter!
Does that mean, kill again I could?

No hold of my life – because I’m going down
Locked behind bars in the blackness of downtown
Hell hath no fury like I did that day
Now I’m paying the price for the slay
Interlude (sung badly out of tune at 2:44)
Help me please
I doubt anyone could
Come on please…
No way!

‘Cos they know.
They all know.

Called up to the platform to give my final plea
The only word running through my mind is g-u-i-l-ty
Yet I go ahead anyway, the word ‘innocent’ comes out
Oh, gosh darn it – didn’t mean to say that – the victims family start to shout!

No hold of my life – because I’m going down
Locked behind bars in the blackness of downtown
Hell hath no fury like I did that day
Now I’m paying the price for the slay

Just because I wasn’t born to slaughter!
Just because I said “innocent”
Just because I wasn’t born to slaughter!
But forever I shall be…Hell. Bent. Yeah
HELL BENT ON KILLING AGAIN!!!!

"The Price Of Salvation"

Upon founding The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis', we gave the writing process a kick-start by planning a trinity of albums. The concept for second album Hard Rock Hotel was brainstormed by Steve and myself in an internet chat-room (popular at the time), shortly after the completion of An Angel Called Lucifer. We arranged to write six songs each (an indication that David Picklesworth's departure was already imminent) with me opting to start the album. Of the eight songs on the 2008 finalised version of HRH, "The Price Of Salvation" remains my favourite.



THE PRICE OF SALVATION
Now I am older and I’ve grown wiser to life
Looking back at what I’ve done
Ashamed but I don’t wanna be
Turn to the lord he’s the one who’ll save me

The price of salvation is too high
Give up your life and repent your sins before you die
I have seen the light and there’s one thing I must do
To pay the price of salvation, it’s that or die a fool!

I’m going at this alone
I don’t need to pay the price no more!
All it does is drag me down
Who needs a god anyway?

Persecuted for what I’ve said over the years
Life is so simple so why give up on it now
Trade in my values to be politically correct
Salvation’s price is too high for me

Pack up my bags and move away
If that’s what it takes to escape my fate

No turning back
Helpless on my own
Judged for my beliefs
Acting as the fool

No more pain – throw this life away
I know a place where I can stay

The price of salvation is too high
Give up your life and repent your sins before you die
I have seen the light and there’s one thing I must do
To pay the price of salvation, is the actions of a fool

I’m going at this alone
I don’t need to pay the price no more!
All it does is drag me down
Who needs salvation anyway?

Lost, never to be found
My feet now far from the ground
Will I see my life again?
It’s now or never my friend

Now I am older and I’ve grown further from my life
Looking back I see just black
Ashamed but I can’t feel anything else
The Lord just stands laughing down at me

The price of salvation is too high
Give up your life and repent your sins before you die
I have seen the light and there’s one thing I must do
To pay the price of salvation, is the actions of a fool

No turning back
No turning back
No turning back
No turning

Sunday, 30 April 2006

The Album of Wrath

Although I can't be sure of the date, it's likely the material I wrote for the eventually abandoned "Album Of Wrath" had been completed by late April 2006. The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis' gave rise to my passion for lyric writing and ultimately (if I may be so modest) nourishing my bold talent. The casual observer would never guess all ten tracks were written in a remarkably short period of time, concurrent with the likes of "Dark Church". I still have yet to get round to recording the album, having on multiple occasions considered using the odd-song with The Garibaldis. At the time of writing, Steve Wicked was eager to use them himself! I have no plans to record the tracks currently but who knows, one day perhaps - it would be a shame to let such fine prose go to waste.


WRATH’S INTRODUCTION
The following album
Is about a sin
The worst of all
Known as “Wrath”
Wrath’s a person
He’s in all of us
But mainly in evil
And this is his story
But there is a tale
To be told
And a message
To be sold
It’s important to know
Wrath is pure evil
And never mix with sinful doings
As it is the equivalent of:
Having intercourse with Wrath


DEVIL’S BIRTH WAS QUICK
Fighting for some respiration
Inside each of my peachy cells
Down there the Devil gives birth
I none of the many, many Hells!
Forgiveness is a very sick man
Whom doth not always flee
Try talking to him with your mouth full
He’ll expose you to the obscene!

The devil’s birth as quick
His mother made the doctors sick
They coughed up phlegm and said:
Christ, your son’s been born dead – little did they know…

The devil’s birth was quick
His life was disguised with tricks
He lead on many a man
And with his friend Wrath raped them
This ain’t the first we’ll hear of Wrath
For did you know he wasn’t partial to a bath
Which leads on to my next point
Wrath loved now and again a good old sneaky joint

The devil’s birth as quick
Devil’s birth was quick
Devil’s birth was quick
Devil’s birth was quick
Devil’s birth was quick
Devil’s birth was quick
Devil’s birth was quick
Vomit – vomit – sick-sick-sick!

I like to eat rabbits
While they’re still alive
I listen to trip-hop music
Whilst I fantasise
Courtney Love in dungarees
Smoking herbal trees
In the woods
Watch it burn!


RORY’S NEW GUITAR
Been strumming all my life
Never had a wife!
Turned down relationships
Just to strum my six-string beauty

I got a new guitar
I’m gonna call her Martha II
I gotta new guitar
Strumming her all day long!

Pickin’ here, scrapin’ there
Writing new songs – what a dare!
Strumming Martha’s heartstrings
She’s screaming out my name (Rory!)
Playing her till I drop
She lies in my sweaty hair

Martha lies in my bedroom
But never on the bed
That’s because she’s inanimate
And also quite dead
Yet she still gives me pleasure
Makes my hair stand on end
“Martha, Martha!” I cry out loud
While she makes my body bend

She still gives me pleasure
She still makes me whine
Her stamina’s amazing
To say I’m twiddling her all the time
Then one night however
A snap resounded down her neck
…So I got a new guitar


PLOUGH OF WOOD
You used to live in Texas right?
(Sure I did!)
You used to light the fire right?
(Sure I did!)
Went to summer camp every year?
(Sure I did!)
Encountered many a grisly bear?
(What’s your point?)

I once saw a plough!
That was made of wood!
Can you even believe it?
Plough of a wood!

You used to visit pensioners right?
(Sure I did!)
You used to own a yellow kite?
(Sure I did!)
You drank Ribena since the age of four?
(Sure I did!)
You’ve cut down a tree to make a door?
(Who hasn’t?)

I’m your mate
We’ll play games
Fun and laughter
Party people!
Loving animals
Pets and people
World peace
I love you

How can I express my love to you?
Other than in words
Or perhaps by using the metaphor:
Plough of wood!


I’VE ALWAYS SEEN THE WEST RUN IN THIS LAND
Why does the west always run?
While the east tries to hide
Forget about the north
Go south and jump inside

Feelings cough-up strange emotions
Cowboy films after dark
I’m feeling strongly
For your whole being, baby

I’ve always seen the west run in this land
Whilst the east just sits alone
You think a man will ever be born,
Who can unite the two in harmony?

Sensing, bridges
Falling, ridges
The cake burns in the oven
As I listen to this unfinished symphony

Why does the west always run?
While the east tries to hide
I’ve always seen the west run in this land
North, south, east, west – bow down!

I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
He is Rory!
I am he
That’s the end of this story…


WHEN THE MUSIC DON’T WORK (BLAME AN ELF)
You know the feeling you get
Whilst roaming the magic woods?
Magic mushrooms are your path
You feel an real-high rush
You know your feet are on the ground
But you can see for miles!
And then you try to sing, it comes out all wrong!
Time to blame an elf…

When the music don’t work – blame an elf!
When the music don’t work – blame an elf!
When the music don’t work – blame an elf!
Or, even, do it yourself

This is my song and I wanna sing it loud
I wanna tell everyone I’m Scottish and proud!
So what if I didn’t grow up there,
So what if I don’t have ginger hair,
I know where my roots are… and that is:
Scotland

This is my song and I wanna sing it loud
I wanna tell everyone I’m Scottish and proud!
So what if you don’t like this song
Blame an elf why don’t you, you silly cow
I know where my roots are… and that is:
Scotland

You know the feeling you get
Whilst roaming the magic woods?
Magic mushrooms are your path
You feel an real-high rush
You know your feet are on the ground
But you can see for miles!
And then you try to sing, it comes out all wrong!
Time to blame an elf…


THIS REALLY IS A WILD WORLD
I’m a cowboy, shovel the dung
Life is hard, ain’t always fun
Luckily I got Shelley
The biggest girl in Kentucky
Every night, go for a fight…
On the olde, olde fields of

Alabama! This is a wild, wild world, in
Alabama! Living on this farm
Alabama! Just me and my big breasted Shelley
Alabama! Rearing pigs for life!

Living in the wild- wild west
Kentucky to the east, Alabama to the west
I’m a cowboy from the south
My Shelley came from the west
The west is clearly the best
Best, best, west-west-west


CHRISTMAS WITH WRATH (THE WORST PARTY IN TINSELTOWN)
Once a year, on the twenty-fifth
Santa comes down, gives us gifts
But there’s one house, he’ll always miss
Cos in that house lives wrath!

Wrath, Wrath, evil personified
Even Christmas don’t save his soul
He’s the evilest thing alive!
Wrath, Wrath, Santa’s enemy
He gives gifts if you’re good
But every year, from Wrath he doth flee

In his house there ain’t no tree
No lights, gifts or tinsel
Wrath detests all that’s good
That’s why the police gave him a criminal record;
To keep him away from kids
If Wrath touches them they’ll be sinned
Imagine Wrath was Midas
Then all he touched would be black
Opposed to gold.

He lives in Tinseltown
He wins the “evil crown”
Wrath ain’t a fan of Slade
Buy him a monicle and be his slave

WRATH!
Yeah…


WRATH’S REPRISE
So, you think you know Wrath?
Several songs can’t just sum him up
One more thing has to be done…
One more song to make Wrath’s feelings clear
To help you understand what he’s all about
Don’t be surprised if what you learn now shocks,
You may feel the urge to scream and shout
As I foretold, Wrath’s story is not pretty
For all he touches turns to black,
This makes going to the toilet very inconvenient
So without further-a-do,
I introduce to you,
The Ten Commandments of Wrath!
You have been warned!


THE TENTH COMMANDMENT OF WRATH
Wrath! Wrath! Wrath! Wrath!

Singing about Wrath,
In and out of the bath
This ain’t no black mass
But we’re talking about Wrath!

Wrath is the thing that keeps children awake
Dreaming of sin that only they can make;
In the night Wrath touches them deep,
Gives them all his evil – to keep

Wrath has no remorse – he’ll eat up a horse
He’s personified by evil that we don’t endorse
Wrath’s commandments are simple:
To kill and mame!
Wrath will rape your children
They’ll never be the same!

One: death
Two: kill
Three: eat
Four: dare
Five: cry
Six: play guitar
Seven: die quickly
Eight: rape!
By the time you get to nine,
Wrath has committed the crime
Of the tenth commandment which is…
CANNABALISM!