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Angry Eddie

by Eddie Perfect

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1.
Angry 07:40
2.
Suburbia 05:49
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
3.
4.
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.
5.
6.
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.
7.
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.
8.
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…
9.
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
10.
God's Apathy 05:37
11.
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
12.
13.
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
14.
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.

about

Angry Eddie was recorded Live at The Terminus, Richmond and Chapel Off Chapel, Prahran. Musicians include Tim Minchin, James Richmond, Enzo Ruberto, Dustin McLean, Geoffrey Kluke and Nick Karasavvidis.

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released May 26, 2015

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Eddie Perfect Melbourne, Australia

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