1. |
Angry
07:40
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2. |
Suburbia
05:49
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Suburbia
You’re so clean and quiet/ You’re a woman’s weekly diet
Instant coffee kisses will shake me awake
The mini-golf is waiting and we’ll go roller-skating
When we’re ten pin bowling my soul sings/ as those pins are scattering my heart is battering against all those white picket fences that lie in my chest
You’re an appliance-wielding Goddess smoking cigarettes and heating frozen food
A nymph so domesticated/ every time I masturbated I just thought of you
Suburbia
People in the mood ought to praise you in the food court
You’re the pagan Goddess of KFC/ oh how you’re taunting me with secret recipes
Filling me with awe at the mystery of you
You’ll walk your dog and then maybe we’ll jog in our matching tracksuit top and pants
We’ll go to a bar in your Mum’s landcruiser and then none of us will dance
In Suburbia
Your Mamma is button-sewing/ Pappa is ride-on-mowing on a Sunday afternoon
And you’re there consoling with remote-controlling of Lisa McCune
In Suburbia
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3. |
Juice Bar Girl Intro
00:31
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4. |
Juice Bar Girl
04:25
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Juice Bar Girl
She has a smile for everyone/ Makes casual employment look like fun/ even when the days are long
With her cute bandanna on/ she’s blending fruit and veggies by the tonne/ and I know that she’s the one
It’s like she’s on anti-depressants she’s so so positive and cute/
It could be the anti-depressants, but it’s probably the fruit/
It’s not like I’m some psycho loser/ it’s not like I’d sexually abuse her/
I just wanna abduct the bitch then chop her up and juice her
But it’s unacceptable, it’s rude/ making a woman liquid food
I’d have to strain the chunks through a piece of mesh/ it kinda looks like beetroot but tastes like flesh
It’s a crazy, mixed up world/ and I just wanna juice the juice bar girl
As she goes about her day/ I watch her and my thoughts begin to stray
I wonder how she’s look pureed?
“who’s next?” she loudly shouts/ it’s me, but when I open up my mouth
None of the words come out
She’s not like my previous girlfriend who’s a filthy cheating whore/
My juice bar girl is so pure/ I want to suck her through a straw
I’m not that good looking or groovy/ but I want to take her out to a movie
Not as she is, but in a big, foam cup as a soya milk-based smoothie
But it’s inappropriate, it’s taboo/ what’s a fucked up pervert supposed to do?
It’s reprehensible it’s “no-go”/ it’s probably illegal for all I know
It’s a crazy, mixed up world/ and I just wanna juice the juice bar girl
My friends say I’ve got great taste in women
But there must be more to love than this
Cos women don’t last long when I am with them
And I lose more and more of them, every time I piss…
She just looks so ripe and so tender/ and I don’t really want to offend her
There must be a nice way to take her home and stick her in my blender
But she wouldn’t like it one little bit/ she’s probably not into that sort of shit
It’s kind of awful it’s kind of wrong/ and she wouldn’t keep in the fridge too long
It’s reprehensible it’s not nice/ this morbid combination of chicks and ice
It’s simply terrible it’s just sick/ I mean she’s not a beverage, she’s a chick
It’s a crazy mixed up world/ and I just wanna juice the juice bar girl.
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5. |
Dwayne's Song Intro
01:01
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6. |
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Dwayne’s Song (Some of My Best Friends Are Aboriginal)
My friends from Taiwan/ bitch behind my back when I’m gone
My friends who are Greek/ spit on me whenever they speak
And those Italians or friends from Tibet/ They’re so damn insensitive it makes me upset
But there’s one race of people I love best of all
Some of my best friends are aboriginal
We hang out in bars/ they all drive convertible cars
They drink expensive champagne/ they have luxury beach condos in Spain
They all have mansions and huge indoor pools/ and they send their children off to posh private schools
But they still have their culture, yes they’re standing tall/ these are my friends who are aboriginal
One works in New York/ Another Tokyo
They’re so busy strengthening their portfolios
One of them’s the CEO of an oil company/
I’m so lucky to have friends like these
My white friends make a fuss/ they wish they were indigenous
They’re jealous of their delicate hands/ perfect teeth and permanent tans
They wish they were athletic, they wish they were smart/ they wish that they had great taste in contemporary art
They wish their spiritual lives weren’t so small/ not like my friends who are aboriginal
We go to the Opera, contemporary dance/ we spend our holidays in regional France
We’re so busy having a hell of a time/ I’m so grateful that these friends are mine
I have black friends/ so I can say whatever I like about them
Sure, they’re people I hate/ but it’s justified because they’re my mates
So if I say they’re lazy, or useless, or worse/ or you have to watch them cos they’ll steal your wife’s purse
No one could say that I’m racist at all/ cos some of my best friends are abo…
One of my best friends is ab…
None of my best friends are aboriginal.
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7. |
John Howard's Bitches
03:55
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John Howard’s Bitches
He’s gentle, he’s caring
He’s old, but he’s wise
He’s one of those trustworthy elderly guys
He makes our decisions and thinks for us which is
Why I am one of
John Howard’s bitches
A man of compassion
A man of forgiveness
The truth’s not important unless there’s a witness
But even the best government has it’s glitches
That’s why I’m one of
John Howard’s bitches
He’s my daddy
He’s my world
I’m like a giggling private school girl
He’s my sun, my moon and my stars
Each night he beats me and kisses the scars
A man of integrity, honor and class
He’ll lie in your ear while he’s fucking your arse
He’ll laugh at your suffering
Take poloroid pictures
That’s why I’m one of
John Howard’s biches
I visit his mansion
I’m his pool-boy
He plays the Catholic priest
I play the school-boy
After dinner we say our prayers
And then he handcuffs me under the stairs
Most people don’t like to think they’re a whore
What else can we be when we still ask for more?
Thank God I’m not indigenous, homeless or poor
Last week he beat me so hard I took thirty six stitches
He can’t say he’s sorry but promises riches
And we mustn’t think we deserve better which is…
We we are, all of us, John Howard’s bitches.
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8. |
Where Did They Go?
03:33
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Where Did They Go?
Maybe they fell behind the couch
Or somebody’s mother threw them out
Perhaps someone lent them to a friend
Who never gave them back again
And no one remembers who or when
Perhaps they were borrowed from the lab
And left in the back seat of a cab
Then there was that butcher’s niece from spain
Who said she saw them on a train
But unfortunately she’s insane
So where did they go?
Where did those weapons of mass destruction go?
Tell me does anybody know why the facts are twisted
Where did they go?
Tell me does anybody know the truth?
Or is the fact that they’re missing enough proof
That they actually existed?
Maybe they’re hidden with success
In somebody’s Grandma’s linen press
Perhaps some repayments weren’t met
And the banks repossessed to cover debt
Is that why they haven’t found them yet?
Maybe they’re underneath a bridge
Or in that back part of the fridge
Perhaps they’re in some guy’s flatmate’s house
And that flatmate moved to somewhere else
And he left them on the pantry shelf
So where did they go?
Where are those weapons of mass destruction please?
Tell me if anybody sees them will they please be wary?
Where did they go?
Can you buy them on bullshit dot com
Cos nothing’s more frightening than a bomb that’s imaginary
Where did they go?
Since when is proof absence of fact?
How fucking insulting is that?
There’re no facts so fake em’
Where did they go?
More importantly, where do they come from?
Cos the country condemning all the bombs
Is also one that makes them…
Yes, the U.S. makes them…
And they pretend to hate them…
Yes, the U.S. makes them…
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9. |
Guantanamo Bay
05:45
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Guantanamo Bay
I think I need a little holiday
Somewhere nice and quiet, a secluded get away
I know my holiday will never be complete
Til I’m trapped in a room with a bag on my head and my hands hand-cuffed to my feet
I don’t like the Solomon islands or Bermuda
I don’t go in for car bombs on the beaches of Kuta
I don’t dig Jamaica or Aruba
My idea of paradise is a naval base in Cuba
Take me, oh please take me away
Ask me questions twenty four hours a day
You can drag behind your jeep
Set fire to me in my sleep
Guantanamo, Guantanamo Bay
I won’t be happy til they nail me to a chair
And all of my Al Quiada buddies will be there
They’ll take my clothes leave me in my underwear
Cos my idea of bliss is suffocating in a plastic bag and struggling for air
It may not be the brightest or the cleanest
Compared to other beach resorts the staff are the meanest
But my friends and I had such a ball you should seen us
Each of us with a smile our face and an electrode on our penis
Take me, oh please take me away
Lock me up so I can’t tell night from day
Make me worship those stars and stripes
Then beat me with metal pipes
Guantanamo, Guantanamo Bay
There’s nothing there to distract you or annoy ya
There’s no phone, there’s no TV and you won’t need a lawyer
You can book yourself in now but I must warn ya
You can check in but you can’t check out
It’s like the Hotel California
Take me, oh please take me away
You can burn me with cigarettes each day
Inject parasites in my guts
Then sew both my eyelids shut
Guantanamo, Guantanamo Bay
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10. |
God's Apathy
05:37
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11. |
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Poor Little Middle Class Me
I’m twenty five and I feel old
Bought a coffee today, it was cold
There’s nothing to watch on TV
Poor little middle class me
Went to work, I got paid, I went home
Had a chat to some friends on the phone
Bought a coke, got another coke free
Poor little middle class me
Everything’s wrong and nothing is wrong
Sometimes I feel good but it doesn’t last long
I’m not going up, I’m not going down
I’m just sort of stuck in this strange middle ground
I’m worried I’m getting a gut
Tomorrow I’ll get my hair cut
I’ve got a uni degree
Poor little middle class me
I think I’ve lost my sense of humour
Found a lump in the shower, it might be a tumour
I actually like my family
Poor little middle class me
Everything’s right and nothing is right
But mostly I feel like it’s all just “alright”
I’m not going forward, I’m not going back
Why do I long for the things I don’t lack?
What do I want? What do I need?
Sometimes I cut myself just to see if I bleed
Maybe everything I need is right here
My ciggies, my drugs, and this stubby of beer…
I need a new pair of shoes
But there’s too fucken many to choose
There’s that movie I wanted to see
I’ll wait til it’s on DVD
Hey diddle diddle, I’m stuck in the middle
Poor little middle class me
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12. |
Ticket Inspector Intro
01:42
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13. |
Ticket Inspector
03:41
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I Want To Be A Ticket Inspector
I want to be a ticket inspector
Yes indeedy that’s the life for me
If the ticket machine was broken on your station
I’d fine you anyway and laugh, cos’ that’s the beauty of privitisation
I’d only earn five bucks an hour
Oh, but just imagine all the power
So I want to be a ticket inspector
And fuck the people right up the arse
I want to be a parking inspector
Yes, indeedy, that’s the life for me
I’ll be fining til the day that I’m retired
And I’ll be at your car with a smile on my face five minutes before your meter’s expired
On every street and avenue
I’ll be busy raising revenue
So I want to be a parking inspector
And fuck the people right up the arse
I want to be a weapons inspector
Yes, indeedy, that’s the life for me
If I can’t find weapons after hours of trying
My report will state that that is more than concrete proof that Saddam is lying
The Iraqis have to be saved
Sure some extra oil would be great
So I want to be a weapons inspector
And fuck the people right up the arse
I want to be George W. Bush
Yes, indeedy, that’s the life for me
Saddam was corrupt, I know, our budget used to approve him
But then he didn’t do what we told him, so it was time the US remove him
All out sins the people will pardon
Hey, they’ve forgotten that we trained Osama Bin Laden
So I want to be George W. Bush
And fuck the people right up the arse
And leave them bleeding
And fuck the people right up the arse
Without a condom
And fuck the people right up the arse
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14. |
I Am Alive... Just
06:24
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I Am Alive… Just
Where is the dolphin torch shining the path ahead?
Did I choose my own path, or am I being led?
Surely somebody’s walking with me
Surely somebody’s holding my hand
When I arrive will it all make sense?
When I look back will I understand?
How many more dark miles to go?
Should I chill out and go with the flow?
How do I know I know what I know?
Who do I know who knows what I don’t
I need to know
What if success and happiness are just a dream
What if the light at tunnel’s end is juts a cigarette machine
Who split the world in right and wrong and good and bad
Why does it bother me I’ll never be as happy as the chicks on tampon ads
Still, I’m alive…just
And not without hope…yet
I am alive
Who wrote the book of rules I base my life upon?
Why is it only now I’m beginning to think they’re wrong?
I always thought that way led to way
Following in some grand master plan
Get your degree acquire a spouse
Save up a deposit on a house
What if you don’t fit into that shelf?
What if you actually want something else?
Isn’t that dangerous to ignore?
Living with less but aching for more
I need some answers
Why is it harder living love than living fear?
Why do I still believe my problems are all solvable with beer
How do I know if who I love is who I love?
Why does it always feel I’m fucking treading water just to hold my head above?
Why do I often wake up unable to breathe
So when the chips are down, how strong do I believe what I believe?
Why is it all life’s little contracts have a catch?
What if I live my average seventy-odd years and I don’t even make a scratch?
Still, I’m alive… just
And not without hope… yet
I am alive
How can I let things go when so much is at stake?
Why I can’t I let myself be happy and just give myself a break?
Is this experience or my head banging a wall?
Why do I want the things I want and when I get them find I don’t want them at all?
Still, I’m alive…just
And not without hope…yet
I am alive.
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