Ode To Fucking Everyone
Basically I’m sorry for these things that I’ve done
I say that with the greatest sense of , oh who am I kidding?
The service slipping from these lips is genuinely making me feel…
As sick as a parrot-fashiona-bull-shit terminology, hey gimme back that apology
You desperate little fishy, you desperate little shit
I’m breaking down in laughter, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
What have we become, have we become, have we become?
So basically it bores me, though you’re absolutely right
I’m never gonna make it out of this pig skin alive
Was Enoch Powell right, well I don’t k(no)w
But the rivers of blood are sure beginning to flow
Well my skin tans black in the hot city sun
So where in hell would you say I’m from?
Hang on everybody that don’t belong… it’s gonna be alright
So this ode to fucking everyone and all of us that don’t belong
The Irish black and the British brown, to the mosque they built in Chatham town
Everybody’s got a lot to learn, unlearn the lot
Hang on everybody that don’t belong, it’s gonna be alright
Who are you to draw a line, about as much right as mine
So basically deplore me, score my belly to my brain
This hypocrite’s curriculum is choking me again
You need me like Carl needs Pete and time needs telling like boots need feet
Hang on everybody that don’t belong, it’s gonna be alright
Hang on everybody that don’t belong, it’s gonna be alright
So this Ode it is for everyone and all of us that don’t belong
Hang on
Only Lupen Crook could make such a gloriously accepting chorus sound like the end of the world is just around the corner. Is that Charlie Chaplin at the beginning?
Well spotted, Chris. The sample at the beginning of the album version is taken from The Great Dictator.
Just need to sort out who the angry German chap is, commanding us to hold hands and come together quick, quick, quick, on “Sleeping Lions”
Jim Riley drinks in a great pub around the corner from his studio. We originally recorded a crude ‘made up’ german speech ourselves, but Jim suggested this guy that drinks with him, to come in and put it down properly, rather than our school boyish version. Ian Simons is his name, and he popped in at 10am on his way to work. I gave him the lyrics I’d written and he licked it off in one take. I still owe him a drink or two – well reminded.