TISM - Morrison Hostel | Текст песни

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• TISM
• Morrison Hostel

Jimbo, boy, you're a crock of shit
You're a boozed, selfish thug
Why don't you give your mouth a go?
And in the other hole, put a plug.

By Christ you've gone a long, long way
On a schoolboy's talent with words
One crappy bit of symbolism
And you're adored by an army of turds

You're a selfish, rude, arrogant prick
You're basically pretty stupid
Your mysticism is a lump of shit
And so are all the girls you've rooted

So don't talk about being sad and lonely
Or fucking misunderstood
Because underneath that self-pitying phoney
Is a selfish, brutal hood

I support the police who took you off stage (2)
I support the fact you bled
I support the cops who carried you off
I support the fact you're dead (3)

I think that you're a troubled guy
And I think that is nothing new
I think your fans are a bunch of turds
Almost as immature as you

And, when I'm in my supermarket
And some prick pushes in front of my trolley
I'll be reminded of your stinking bravado
And I'll ask the cunt to say sorry

Your fans would exuse every rudeness
Just because it comes from you
You'd tell them to go drop dead
And they would say, "How True, how true, how true"

You need a nine to five job Jimbo
You need to get to Flinder's Street by train (4)
Go find yourself a regular income
Then you can write a song about pain

Try and save for the kiddies' school fees
Take some care when you drive a car
Put your God damn rubbish in a bin
You fucking great rock superstar

You have spawned a host of cocksure shits
That are nearly always filthy rich
Who think that because they're a little bit like 'Ol' Jimbo'
They can act like stinking pricks

An army of brainless arty youth
They look down on us common plods
But they barrack for good old Morrison
Like the fucking Richmond Cheer Squad (5)

So when you're listening to Morrison Hotel (6)
And Jimbo - he's in top form
Whining about this harsh, cruel world
And the fact he was ever born

Remember his fans are rapt
And brooding over their suffering lives
And go to discuss it at Thrash and Treasure (7)
(At least, if daddy will drive

Jimbo - King of the Private School Kids
The girls from PLC (8)
Who identify with his tortured soul
Because they have just dropped boy friend number three

Who was Kent, from Xavier College (9)
In HSC (10) he got an A for English
But between Jimbo and William Blake (11)
He hasn't got the fucking brains to distinguish

Jimbo - father of a generation of private school depression idols
From Nick Cave (12) on,
They don't kill themselves
Just tell us why they're suicidal

He has made self pity legitimate
It means we'll have to face
One after another, artists with integrity
Like REO Speedwagon (13).

Sorry, I meant "Hugo Race" (14).

Well, up your arse Jimbo, old man
Up your fucking hole
You are a prick, pure and simple
It's about time you were told

And up your arse to all your fans
Up your arse to your tortured artistic hell
And while we're fucking at it
Up your arse to Morrissey (15) as well

Up your arse to Robert Smith (16)
Up your arse to Albert Camus (17)
All those, "I'm suffering for my art" types
Jimbo, I blame them all on you

And every one who handles life's pain
With a token of mature self examination
It's time they told these ponces
To stick it up their bogus self infatuation

But if you're after true self indulgence
Then the conclusion is still not final
Because if you thought Jim Morrison was a wanker
Well Christ, you just bought this fucking bit of vinyl

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