Well I wake up in the morning at 11:47 And I can't believe I have to face the horror of another fucking day And the magnificent magnitude of my morning erection Merely mocks me like the sun in it's optimistic greeting of the day Managing to manifest a modicum of motivation I meander to the kitchen make a mission out of mixing Nescafe But the milk is going off and coffee by itself is bitter And there's ants all through the sugar and the supermarket's miles a-fucking-way
My life is pretty sad But I know that I should be glad I could be a starving Ethiope Or a policeman in Baghdad Policeman in Baghdad Bagdad
At 11:53 I instigate the day's ablutions In the hope my constitution can be altered by some action on the bowl But the total non-existence of colonic animation Seems to me the perfect metaphor for the utter constipation of my soul By 11:59 I have decided that my life would be immediately improved By a carefully written list of short-term goals But by 12.05 my list consists of one-dot put some pants on Two-dot go to the shop, buy some prunes and Panadol
My life is pretty shit But I know I shouldn't whinge about it I could be a Palestinian Driving buses on the Gaza strip
Yeah how bad can it be? Some people have it worse than me I could be an Ipswich prostitute Or Gary Glitter's family
I have no right to cry Some people have it worse than I I could be a thalidomide kid With something in my eye Something in my eye My eye
At 12:30 I realise I'm feeling so dejected That I've totally neglected the beginning of the Jerry Springer show So I settle on the sofa try to focus an iota of my motor-neurons On the brilliant insights for which Jerry is known And although on any other day a show entitled "Midgets, Midgets, Midgets" Would excite me like a virgin at her year eleven ball Today those little jelly-wrestling fellas fail to free me of my misery Instead they simply serve to make me feel three foot tall
But how bad can it be? Some people have it worse than me I could be a junior life saver On a Banda Aceh beach
Or a woman in afghanistan Or a Jew in the Klu Klutz Klan Or the architect of the World Trade Centre Or a bobcat driver in Bam Iran
I could have my identity mistaken As a bomber in an underground station I could be a peace-loving speech-writer In George W's administration
Yeah, I know that I don't have the right To be unhappy with my life I could be Hitlers mother Or Shane Warne's wife
Yeah, I know that I shouldn't be bitchin' I could be in a worse position I could be a 3-nippled naturopath In the days of the Spanish In the Spanish inquisition
I know I have no right, no right to cry Some people have it much, much worse than I I could have a serious nut allergy And be shipwrecked on an island with a crate of Snickers bars, A jar of Nutella and a fresh baked pecan pie Some people have it worse than I!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
