Ha! There's a billionaire, my dear reader(s), and he wants FANTASTIC INSECURITY. Apparently, he's sick of money. Oh, he don't want it no more, man.
So, we should take it away from him. COME ON! All the road warriors and degenerates with Mohican haircuts will be beating a path to his door now.
We'll take ... EVERYTHING! Yeah, his houses, his cars, his paintings, his jewellery, his racehorses, uh, his MONEY. 'Great!' Then he'll be able to sign-on at his local Jobcentre.
And what will he eat? ['Cake?'] Don't worry about that. There are plenty of perfectly good food banks around.
BAKED BEANS! COLD BAKED BEANS!
Because ... this is what he wants!
FANTASTIC INSECURITY!
FANTASTIC INSECURITY!
FANTASTIC INSECURITY!
It will be like Dunkirk ... standing on the beach, waiting for a boat, dodging the planes. 'Er ... is that what he means, boss?' I don't know, Voice. I don't think he knows.
Butts ... ?! Maybe ... / Ha! Christ! He just wants brains and hands, you know? [I think.] On this small island of ours. That's all he wants. He ain't thinking about the cosmos, the billions of galaxies. Oh no! It's all far too big for a small mind!
And when it's all gone, the treasures of his life ... he'll be naked on the cold earth, like Lear, totally insane. 'The thunder and lightning!' It will feel so good to be alive!
...
Well, well ... [Later this night ...] / And in other news, I've written the chorus lyric for my new tune, but I might scrap it. Why? Well, I've just heard the new Stone Roses single and it sounds like the theme tune for a Saturday morning kids show from the 70s. I've got the chance of writing a classic and I can't settle for mediocre lyrics.
The fight goes on ...
[Much later the next day ...] I've changed the chorus! It's better now, and I'm keeping it. I won't mind singing it as long as the three verses are shit-hot. Let's see what happens ...
So, we should take it away from him. COME ON! All the road warriors and degenerates with Mohican haircuts will be beating a path to his door now.
We'll take ... EVERYTHING! Yeah, his houses, his cars, his paintings, his jewellery, his racehorses, uh, his MONEY. 'Great!' Then he'll be able to sign-on at his local Jobcentre.
And what will he eat? ['Cake?'] Don't worry about that. There are plenty of perfectly good food banks around.
BAKED BEANS! COLD BAKED BEANS!
Because ... this is what he wants!
FANTASTIC INSECURITY!
FANTASTIC INSECURITY!
FANTASTIC INSECURITY!
It will be like Dunkirk ... standing on the beach, waiting for a boat, dodging the planes. 'Er ... is that what he means, boss?' I don't know, Voice. I don't think he knows.
Butts ... ?! Maybe ... / Ha! Christ! He just wants brains and hands, you know? [I think.] On this small island of ours. That's all he wants. He ain't thinking about the cosmos, the billions of galaxies. Oh no! It's all far too big for a small mind!
And when it's all gone, the treasures of his life ... he'll be naked on the cold earth, like Lear, totally insane. 'The thunder and lightning!' It will feel so good to be alive!
...
Well, well ... [Later this night ...] / And in other news, I've written the chorus lyric for my new tune, but I might scrap it. Why? Well, I've just heard the new Stone Roses single and it sounds like the theme tune for a Saturday morning kids show from the 70s. I've got the chance of writing a classic and I can't settle for mediocre lyrics.
The fight goes on ...
[Much later the next day ...] I've changed the chorus! It's better now, and I'm keeping it. I won't mind singing it as long as the three verses are shit-hot. Let's see what happens ...
