1. |
Drink Pepsi, Bitch
04:10
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You wanna have friends?
You wanna fit in?
You wanna dress right but don’t know where to begin
You want a partner who’s perfect
You want skin with no lines
When you have sex you wanna orgasm at least seven times
You wish you were smart
You wish you were cool
You wish you were happier than Michael Jackson in a primary school
You wish you had a few more friends
You wish you were a little more rich
Here’s the fucken answer baby; Drink Pepsi Bitch…
We’re sick and tired of letting you dumb fuckers choose
What do you know? You’re too preoccupied with buying new shoes
You think you have choice? Well that’s just a joke
You couldn’t even handle choosing between Pepsi and Coke
Your friends are thinner/ more popular than you
Without us you wouldn’t know what to wear or what music to listen to
You’re so vacuous and shallow/ you’re making me sick
Get on your knees/ suck on a Pepsi like you’re sucking my dick
You think without us you wouldn’t survive
But it’s just sugar and water mixed with flavour number five
How can we put it so you’ll understand?
Jesus Christ is less recognisable than the front of our can
We got a crack team of lawyers
We own your fucken employers
If you get thirsty you can buy a Pepsi here in the foyer
We’re sick of running this race
We always come second place
Now it’s time to get right up in your motherfuckin face
Ain’t no celebrity that money can’t buy
Ain’t no end to the marketing tactics we’ll try
We have no beside manner
We’ll smash it home with a hammer
We killed Ghandi, Martin Luther King and Princess Diana
We own the blueprints of life
You’ll never know the full story
We built Paris Hilton in a secret laboratory
We got the whole fucking world in the palm of our hand
Our cock is a bottle/ we’ll make you suck on our brand
You sponsor kids in Rwanda? Well, drink Pepsi, Bitch
You drive a cute little Honda? Well, drink Pepsi, Bitch
You own a CD by Madonna? Drink Pepsi Bitch
You bought that book by Jane Fonda? Well, Drink Pepsi, Bitch
You drank a Starbucks coffee ever? Drink Pepsi, Bitch
You thought The Matrix was clever? Well, Drink Pepsi, Bitch
You have a job? You pay taxes?
You have a boyfriend who waxes?
Each time your credit maxes
Each time the earth spins on its axis
You drink Pepsi, Bitch
Drink Pepsi Bitch!
You want a flat screen TV?
You want a free DVD?
You want a house a car/ career/
A university degree?
The answer’s in the bottom of your fridge
Drink it up
Drink it up
Drink it up
Drink Pepsi Bitch!
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2. |
Ray Martin Intro
01:02
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3. |
Hooray For Ray
04:33
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4. |
Ex-Gay Intro
01:50
|
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5. |
Ex-Gay
06:12
|
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Jesus knows I made some mistakes
It started with sponge-bob square pants, then mineral water and some Streisand tapes
Soon I was in over my head
A KD Lang poster over my bed
I was reading Blake
I thought it was too late
Don’t you fear cos help is on its way
This is a support network full for people like you who once were gay
Together we’ll watch competitive sports
I know it’s full of men in tight shorts
But we’ll be OK
Just my hold my hand and pray
Your mind is in the sewer
But Jesus is the cure
Take me to the water wash this man love away
I wanna be an ex-gay
Be an ex-gay
I’m gonna get on my knees, not to suck cock this time but to pray
Homosexuality is just a pair of Calvin Klein underpants away
I can be an ex-gay
Be an ex-gay
Who was it that said that love was blind?
We’ll get by, just try fucking your wife from behind
You got a church and family you don’t wanna hurt them
So what if the sofa don’t go with the curtains
Straight men don’t mind
Soon you will find
You’re an ex-gay
You’re an ex-gay
Swap your cous-cous for hamburgers, drink beer not Rose
May God strike us down with fury if we should stray
Be an ex-gay
Be an ex-gay
Halleluiah at last
I’m on the straight path
One day I’ll look back at photos of me in my mardi-gras leathers and laugh
Cologne, homewares and antique furniture are all in the past
I’ll be butch and not fey
Cos I’m an ex-gay
I believe in the Lord
The Lord believes in me
His courage gives me strength
His love is all I need
This love in unconditional
His faith in me is true
He loves me just for who I am
But not for what I do
But do I believe in a Lord
Who mocks my happiness
Who fills my heart with love
Then tells me it’s a test?
This ain’t some disease here
Who am I trying to please here
Even if I do survive and make it out of here alive
I’ll be so depressed it won’t matter anyway
Where in the bible does it say
That Jesus didn’t like gays?
His only enemies were hypocracy and greed
And I see plenty of that round here today
When did hate and fear decide who goes and who stays?
I over with fear
Won’t stay another minute here
You can brainwash us to stay with our wives
Ruin not one but two people’s lives
I stand before my church and God this day
See me as I am
An ex-ex-gay!
|
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6. |
Burn Intro
00:59
|
|||
7. |
Burn
06:57
|
|||
Burn
We met at a biodynamic fair
Don’t ask me what I was doing there
I fell in love with her dreadlocked hair that day
She was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen
A vegetarian’s wet dream
And centrefold of Vegan Magazine they say
I was just an innocent and slightly naïve, white, suburban, teenage guy
Who’d never drunk chai
I was clueless- didjeridoo-less
She opened up my mind; one day she took me with her buddies to an outdoor rave
I didn’t know how to behave at all
There was nothing both of us couldn’t go through
I stopped shaving started eating tofu
We made love and while I was coming
All I heard was African drumming
Every dream of love I had came true
Fire twirlers sprang into action
My girlfriend was the major attraction
Rings of fire flew through the air
Far too close to her clothes and her hair
Faster and faster she span
The flames flicking horribly near
I looked on in horror
I wanted to stop her
She stumbled upon a
Particularly difficult turn
And I watched while she burned…
She burned…
No one could save her
Her friends were too stoned to be concerned
We watched while she burned…
I was shocked and mortified
I’d looked on as my true love died
For months and months I cried out of control
Her friends wouldn’t leave me alone
They camped at my house and called my phone
Something about them nauseated my soul
These feral kids from wealthy homes were slumming it with their nouveau organic food
They insisted on being nude
They wore crystal deodorant and still smelt like rodents
All their new-age mantras and pathetic pagan affirmations blew my fuse
I mean for fuck’s sake, wear shoes
And get some drumming lessons
Fuck those retched soya bean eaters
Pretending to read the Baghavagida
What a bunch of cultural phiranas
A million lifetimes short of Nirvana
They were closing in and I was trapped
Then voices in my head like a choir
Told me, “It’s their fault she caught fire
Blame those skinny environmental fascists
They’re the reason your love turned to ashes”
I became focused and clear
The day of the funeral came
I now had a purpose/ her funeral service/ would be the perverse-ist and worse-ist of funerals ever held on earth…
(African drumming begins…)
The sun rose over the ocean that day
For a memorial service on the beach at Byron Bay
African chanting and primitive dancing
And more shithouse drumming than I care remembering
(drum break)
Louder and louder they pounded their percussion
My poor brain was reeling from aural concussion
Just as their rhythms crescendo’d most violent
The minister appeared and the drummers fell silent
All my emotions had swallowed and spent me
Who were these demons sent down to torment me?
I’d never rest. Yes- I swore to God solemnly
I’d kill the culture that stole my love from me
I felt the power of vengeance flow through me
I’d destroy every hippy and feral who’d screwed me
For I had a plan that I’d carried out deviously
I’d soaked the beach in petroleum just two hours previously
And on cure the fire twirlers came out in turn
I leapt into the ocean as they lit their flares and watched while they
Burned
I watched them all burn
Those motherfuckers burned
They burned.
Is this burning an eternal flame?
|
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8. |
Call Centres
05:00
|
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Thank The Lord For Call Centres
See over there, in that beige swivel chair
There’s a bald guy of twenty named Kevin
Eats cold soup from the can/ a tattoo on his hand reads
“Mum Rest In Peace 97”
And sometimes for fun he says “I’ve got a gun
I might bring it to work just for training”
He told me his wife took her life with his knife
But he’s glad cos it stopped her complaining.
Jill’s 28, she is quite overweight
And completely obsessed with beyonce
She wears a huge ring she refers to as “bling”
Given to her by her fat fiancé
Each day’s spent dreading she’ll mention the wedding
She talks like she’s circular breathing
The staff have a hunch that she steals all their lunch
From the kitchenette fridge as she’s leaving
Thank the Lord for call centres
Senior management’s monitoring
It always too bright there, George Orwell’s worst nightmare
Fight if you want but you’re not going to win
It’s a mediocrity circus
All of us are non-unionised workers
Thanks the Lord for call centres
Non compliance is sin
You can fight but you’re not gonna win
Michael’s the guy all staff member’s despise
He’s exactly the shape of a boulder
A moronic bloke whose idea of a joke
Is resting his cock on your shoulder
No one includes him- a sex life eludes him
He’s master of social embarrassment
An email he forwarded is so fucking sordid
They charged him sexual harassment
Susan’s devotion has earned a promotion
She studied the brown-noser’s manual
Each time you see the supervisor young Susan’s beside her
Like some tragic whore cocker-spaniel
Get in her path and she’ll rip you in half
It’s no wonder that everyone hates her
The staff kitty’s up to four hundred bucks
For the employee who assassinates her
Thank the Lord for call centres
Living off food from a vending machine
Plugged into the phone you’re a workaday drone
No longer human, now you’re a machine
Not enough will or cash for a night course
The corporation’s sucking your life force
Thank the Lord for call centres
Everyone’s living the dream
Make sure your coffee mug’s clean
Some say the earth is round
So you can’t see too much of the road where you’re going
This corporate Merry-Go-Round
Doesn’t show too many signs that it’s slowing
Why am I pushing this shit up this hill to live?
This job is sucking my own fucking will to live
No money, no savings, no future, no dreams
Who could survive this relentless routine?
Where it’s traffic/ ten hour day/ traffic/ television
Traffic/ ten hour day/ traffic/ television
Junk food/ boredom/ advertisements/ credit cards
Pay the rent/ find a girl/ marry then settle down
Watch shit and read shit and take shit and eat shit
Then shit it all out and WON’T SOMEBODY PLEASE JUST FUCKING SHOOT ME!!!
Thank the Lord for call centres
Looks like they’re here to stay
Three cheers
Three cheers
Three cheers
Hip hip… Hooray
Hip hip… Hooray!
Hip hip… Hooray!!!!
|
||||
9. |
Cirque Du Soleil
06:13
|
|||
From China to Canada everyone thinks we’re terrific
The success of our empire is keeping it all unspecific
Audiences eat up our banquet of dazzling tricks
But it’s harder to swallow than eating a big mac and chips
You saw Saltimbanco you even sat through Allagria
If it made sense to you can you tell us cos we’ve no idea
The left hand is showing you magical wonders divine
The right hand is stuck in your pocket and robbing you blind
Yes tonight there’s no end to the bullshit that you’ll see
You’ll probably beg us for animal cruelty
The only thing light as the show is your wallet when you walk away
Look for some meaning/ you won’t find an answer
We’re more omnipresent than Starbucks and cancer
The beautiful thing’s bullshit’s bullshit no matter what country you play
Cirque Du Soleil!
Maybe we shouldn’t have spent so much time simply wanking
There’s really no time to rehearse once we’ve finished our banking
It’s so pithy, so edgy, so arty, so mainstream, so now
It’s like magic, like dreaming, like childhood, like nothing, like wow
The music suddenly cuts and we hear the following voice over
Before we begin tonight’s performance we would like to acknowledge and thank our corporate partners and sponsors
Big list of corporate sponsors to follow
And now that we have completely destroyed any atmosphere of magic and mystery, sit back and enjoy “Corporationa”
Narrative Schmarrative, who needs a plot?
When you’ve got a world franchise that’s this fucking hot.
There’s a million ideas you’ll project onto it
But I’ll tell you right now the whole thing don’t mean shit
It’s a global phenomenon no one can fight
The ideas are loose but the costumes are tight
And smoke machines cover the fact we’ve got nothing to say
Cirque Du Soleil
|
||||
10. |
OMO intro
01:26
|
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11. |
Dirt Is Good
07:46
|
|||
Johnson
Dirt is good
Dirt is good
Dirt is natural it does everything that it should
Dirt is everywhere we should embrace it
Let your children get dirty let OMO erase it…
Dirt is not a thing to be feared
Dirt was on earth before people got here
Dirt’s an essential part of your neighbourhood
OMO needs dirty people so dirt is good…
Smith
Dirt is good. Dirt is good…DIRT…IS….Goood…
(abrupt stop)
I like it!
Dirt is Good
Dirt’s terrific
Growing children need dirt, in fact, it’s scientific
It boosts their resistance to illness
Prevents asthma and allergies and general silliness
Dirt’s full of enzymes which aid concentration
Dirt is God’s own immunization
Dirt has a purpose, it's everywhere and it's free
Dirt creates healthy adults like you and me
Yes, yes, yes! I like it. I like it a lot. What about you, Stuart, you’re always hip to the gay angle… what do you think… how will this wash with the homos on the street?
(abrupt stop)
Stuart
Dirt is good
It’s fundamental
I think Streisand got dirty when she was in Yentil
If Mom had just let me go outside to play
Then maybe I wouldn’t be so gosh darn gay
Dirt and Omo- what a great team
Like Fred and Ginger or Torville and Dean
I’m sure the fab five from Queer Eye would all agree
“Dirt Is Good” and no-one’s as dirty as me…
“Dirt is Good” I think it’s fabulous. I can’t wait to see the commercial. I don’t know if this helps but my exboyfriend’s boyfriend’s roommate knows someone who knows Lisa Minelli…
Mr. Phillips
Wait a minute…
(abrupt stop)
Doesn’t anyone want to know what I think?
Stuart
I’m sorry Mr. Phillips… I thought… I though you…
Mr. Phillips
I’ve had forty-three years experience in marketing and never in my life has a product I’ve marketed promoted the enemy…
For forty-three years we’ve been scaring the shit out of parents, telling them if they don’t get the dirt out of their kid’s clothes, the kid’s gonna wind up with cancer. For fuck’s sake, in the eighties I was responsible for inventing twelve new strands of bacteria… just made em’ up…
Coctafrothi
Staptacocoli
Coctostopoppi…
Pretty much anything with “cock” in it sounded scary.
And now this… “Dirt Is Good?”
It’s ridiculous…
(stab)
It’s preposterous…
(stab)
It’s… it’s…
It’s brilliant!
(stab)
Dirt is Good
Dirt is sweet
Now’days parents are so fucking anal and neat
Health problems are on the increse-ity
Who wants a house full of kids with no friends and obesity?
We’ll scare parents til all their kids are unclean
Say dirt improves social skills, builds self-esteem
No-one can lie like a scientist in a white lab coat
“Dirt Is Good” hell yes, you have my vote…
All right, people, if we want this campaign to work we’re going to have to pull out all stops. Somebody get a pad and paper and write this down…
I want child psychologists speaking on panels
I want pro-dirt stories on every new channel
I want graphs and charts on my desk by 12.30
Come on people! Let’s get those kids dirty
Johnson
Commission a study that says lack of dirt’ll
Make children ugly, obese and infertile
We’ll conquer the world with an international TV campaign
Smith
I see healthy young kids playing in dirt with their vigilant Nanny
Phillips
But they have to be white. Can’t see dirt if the kid’s Pakistani
Smith
Good point
There’s a young girl who’s bored
She’s playing in doors and she’s chubby- really chubby
She may be clean but she’s a fat little thing
And she’s hooked up to a dialysis machine!
All
Dirt is good
It’s so hot
This is gonna put OMO right over the top
We’ve created the con of the century
Oh, consumers must live in perilous times
When they’re at the mercy of marketing minds
They could stand in a forest and still be blind to the wood
Johnson
Cos it’s dirt
Smith
What is dirt?
Phillips
It’s just dirt
Stuart
It can’t hurt.
(abrupt stop)
…Can it?
(pause)
All
No, it’s dirt, Dammit
The truth is that Dirt Is Good
|
||||
12. |
||||
I Wanna Go Home
The first girl I took to IKEA broke my heart
We got home and the whole thing fell apart
I held the screws to our bed as she fled
Love is so much like an IKEA shelf
You just have to put it together yourself
And next week you're shopping with somebody else
And I wanna go home
I wanna go home
Girl number two had "forever" written 'cross her face
I'd never seen someone so at home in that place
She didn’t know where to begin so she moved in
This woman I love I despise when I shop
I can’t even pronounce the name of this cup
I’m keeping the Allen Key in case we break up
And I wanna go home
I wanna go home
Girl number three was so busy adding up the cost
She let go of my hand and she got lost
By the time I found someone to help she'd met someone else
I felt lower than any lamp's pricetag was marked
I knew it was over before she had parked
We got there in the morning I left in the dark
And I wanna go home
I wanna go home
It's so damn depressing I think I could cry
IKEA's where burnt out love curls up to die
With so many dismantled lifestyles to buy
I wanna go home
I wanna go home
I just wanted more than what IKEA stocks
Something that didn't come out of a box
My new love and I needed furniture but we were afraid
Still we went to IKEA anyway
At the showroom where no love survived we arrived
How many times had I been here before?
We stood in the carpark and looked at the store
Then holding hands both backed away from the door
She said, "I wanna go home"
And I said, "I wanna go home
|
||||
13. |
||||
Where’s My Flat Screen TV, Bitch?
Every day I watch your show and escape
The realities of my life
Every corner you’ve turned
Every lesson you’ve learned
Helps me know things will turn out alright
I read O Magazine
Every segment I’ve seen
Tells me the answers are all here inside
I searched my soul for a bit
Nurtured my spirit and shit
Yes I tried
Oprah I tried
Oprah for a start my family’s falling apart
My wife and I just can’t make ends meet
For some reason or another we don’t communicate with each other
And the whole family is obese
I can’t figure it out the family don’t leave the couch
Our leaders tell us over and over that we’re free
I know things could be better
That’s why I’m writing this here letter
Cos there’s just one thing we need…
Where’s my flat screen TV, bitch?
Where’s my flat screen TV, bitch?
What’s the big deal, Oprah Winfrey,
You’re fucking rich
Where’s my flat screen TV,
TV bitch?
How can you tell me that the best things are free
And that money cannot take its place
Your philosophy has no merit
When cash is a carrot
That you dangle in front of my face
You give your audience cars
All your friends are big stars
You say I could be part of your show
You only make me feel bad
Wanting things I can’t have
So there’s just one thing I want to know
Where’s my fridge and washing machine?
I don’t wanna work to earn the American dream
Oprah do realise how much that would mean
Life would be much better with a brand new fridge and washing machine
If you wanted to know why she’s beamed into everybody’s home
You’d only have to see it’s because
Everyone out there knows that God don’t answer prayers
But Oprah Winfrey Does
Not in God but Oprah we Trust
I want it all without having to get off my ass
Oprah’s going to heaven she’s bought her backstage pass
Oprah we adore you we implore you
Give some more shit to us…
Where’s my flat screen TV
Nothing solves life’s problems more than shit that is free
You’re so rich/ cough it up bitch
Give it to me…
And I’ll say
See, I passed the test, made one request
And Oprah answered me
This is not the end
We could be friends
Her fame rub off on me
Celebrity’s in sight
Please bring me to the light
I’m down on my knees
Save me God-slash-Oprah
With a big wide flat-screen TV
|
||||
14. |
September 10
05:39
|
|||
The world is now a different place
The old world gone without a trace
Your left wing dreams have blown up in your face
Of course it was a lovely thought
That every human being ought
To feel they are equal and have their own place to belong
I’m here to say that liberal fairy-tale’s wrong
For fact is fact and can’t be changed
And this one simple fact remains;
That Muslim men with lengthy names
Each one of them, of course, insane
Hijacked domestic aeroplanes
Fulfilled their terrorism aims
not everybody wants to be your friend
Stop being so damn September 10
Thank heavens your guilt never overpowers
The strength of your suburban ivory towers
You’d probably like to help more but a day’s only twenty four hours
So while you sip on lattes and boutique beers
Shed out-dated socialist crocodile tears
The New World Order is knocking down your door
And Bolshevik bullshit can’t help you any more
You worry about plastic bags
Defend the rights of marrying fags
You read too many Cleo mags
And worry that your wife’s tits sag
Your sponsoring of third world children
Saves one child rejects one billion
Fucking weak humanitarians
Stop being so damn September 10
Our enemies get off on hearing left wing rants like these
While you sip wine and nibble vintage cheese
They’re growing stronger every day I say
How can I help and stop you people lying to yourselves?
We’re the world’s wealthiest eight percent
Our pathetic shot at charity won’t make a dent
What were we actually fighting for?
Tomorrow and forever it’s just war war war….
Why did you come here tonight?
We’ll have a laugh? won’t that be nice?
But you can pay the ticket price
The rest of the world is eating rice
What’s so fucking God damn funny?
We’re the cunts with all the money
I don’t want to tell you all again
Stop being so damn September 10
When will we all understand
Our life is nothing but a bland
And tiny speck of dust or sand
That slips through the creator’s hand
One grain of sand upon a beach
All hope for us is out of reach
We’re going to die the only question’s ‘when’?
Stop being so damn September 10
|
||||
15. |
||||
I could have bottomless pockets full of loose change
And yesterday’s homeless would be homeless today
I look at my watch as I run for the train
Sticking the headphones in my ears
Don’t the world’s problems seem unsolvable?
When did I get so cynical?
Don’t wanna be so cynical
We’re turning the clock back at least fifty years
We vote for idols who have no ideas
We’re becoming the same thing that everyone fears
And sending the peace makers away
What they call freedom is another brick wall
When did I get so cynical
Don’t wanna be so cynical
Where is the joy?
Where is the wonder?
Where’s the lifeline for those going under?
Ave Maria
Gratsia Plena
Gratsia plena
Maria Maria Gratsia
Let’s have a hand for the angry young boy
At least he’s in love with the things he destroys
Until they start listening he’ll keep making noise
He just wants to tear the temple down
All the King’s horses and all the king’s men
Don’t want to put this world together again
I wanna feel when I come to the end
That I made something beautiful
All anyone wants is a soft place to fall
Let me be angry, upset and appalled
Just don’t let me be too cyncial
|
||||
16. |
||||
17. |
Taking Myself Away
05:23
|
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