In the year 2525? Science fiction? / Er, yeah, hedge funds are too big or dominant in the markets now or something. 'It's now!' Well ... I don't know what George is going on about. (And I don't really care, not with my problems on my mind.) All I know is that I'm getting emails from hedge fund managers every day begging me to let them join the band. 'What fucking band, Mikey?!' My band, Voice. 'You don't have a band, man!' I know I don't. But they think I do. They want to play keyboards, or the bass. Yesterday, some guy wanted to play the drums. Basically, they're desperate to escape finance. 'Shit!' Can you blame them? 'No. It's all coming to an end.' Yes, and my angel picks this moment - THIS MOMENT - to go on Newsnight and say that kids should be taught finance in school! 'Did you see her?' No, I missed it. Just heard about it on Twitter. / Actually, I reckon she'd make quite a sexy backing singer if she wasn't SO(!) into all that nonsense, the nonsense I've wasted the last six years on. 'But you don't have a band, Mikey.' No. 'You could be a duo - like Renee and Renato!' Don't take the piss, Voice.
Maybe I need one, you know, a band. / My fingers are messed up. I'm playing the guitar a lot more. I've got to. / I thought my new song was a great song ... but a great song needs a great recording. / Sometimes it's hard to separate them. I mean, Walk On By - song, or recording of the song? Do you know what I mean, reader?
It's all right for George Soros. He doesn't have my worries. (Nor the worries of the little hedgies, with their millions). He's well out of it, the grief of life, with his billions. / Billions!
If I had billions, do you think my fingers would be all cut up? Of course they wouldn't. Soros can't relate to my pain.
I don't know, man. He might envy me. I'm in agony, but I'm ALIVE! / It's like a mummy with banknotes instead of bandages. Soros, not me.
Maybe I need one, you know, a band. / My fingers are messed up. I'm playing the guitar a lot more. I've got to. / I thought my new song was a great song ... but a great song needs a great recording. / Sometimes it's hard to separate them. I mean, Walk On By - song, or recording of the song? Do you know what I mean, reader?
It's all right for George Soros. He doesn't have my worries. (Nor the worries of the little hedgies, with their millions). He's well out of it, the grief of life, with his billions. / Billions!
If I had billions, do you think my fingers would be all cut up? Of course they wouldn't. Soros can't relate to my pain.
I don't know, man. He might envy me. I'm in agony, but I'm ALIVE! / It's like a mummy with banknotes instead of bandages. Soros, not me.
