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  1. Bokep

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  2. Storm (Live)

    Song by

    This is a nine-minute-beat poem
    It's called Storm
    Inner North London, top floor flat
    All white walls, white carpet, white cat
    Rice Paper partitions, modern art and ambition
    The host's a physician
    Bright bloke, has his own practice
    His girlfriend's an actress, an old mate of ours from home
    And they're always great fun, so to dinner we've come
    The 5th guest is an unknown
    The hosts have just thrown us together as a favour 'cause this girl's just arrived from Australia
    And she's moved to North London and she's the sister of someone or has some connection
    As we make introductions I'm struck by her beauty
    She's irrefutably fair with dark eyes and dark hair
    But as she sits, I admit I'm a little bit wary 'cause I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
    Tattooed on that popular area just above the derrière
    And when she says "I'm Sagittarian", I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
    And is immediately filled with pigeon when she says her name is Storm
    Conversation is initially bright and light hearted but it's not long before Storm gets started
    "You can't know anything, knowledge is merely opinion!"
    She opines, over her Cabernet Sauvignon, vis-à-vis some unhippily empirical comment made by me
    "Not a good start" I think
    We're only on pre-dinner drinks
    And across the room, my wife widens her eyes, silently begs me: "Be Nice"
    A matrimonial warning, not worth ignoring
    So I resist the urge to ask Storm whether knowledge is so loose-weave of a morning when deciding whether to leave her apartment by the front door
    Or the window on her second floor
    The food is delicious and Storm, whilst avoiding all meat happily sits and eats
    As the good doctor, slightly pissedly holds court on some
    Anachronistic aspect of medical history
    When Storm suddenly insists:
    "But the human body is a mystery!"
    "Science just falls in a hole when it tries to explain the the nature of the soul."
    My hostess throws me a glance
    She, like my wife, knows there's a chance I'll be off on one of my rare but fun rants but I shan't
    My lips are sealed, I just want to enjoy the meal
    And although Storm is starting to get my goat
    I have no intention of rocking the boat
    Although it's becoming a bit of a wrestle because like her meteorological namesake Storm has no such concerns for our vessel
    "Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy
    They promote drug dependency at the cost of the natural remedies that are all our bodies need
    They are immoral and driven by greed
    Why take drugs when herbs can solve it?
    Why use chemicals when homeopathic solvents can resolve it?
    I think it's time we all return-to-live with natural medical alternatives."
    And try as I like
    A small crack appears in my diplomacy-dike
    "By definition", I begin
    "Alternative Medicine", I continue
    "Has either not been proved to work, or been proved not to work
    Do you know what they call 'alternative medicine' that's been proved to work?
    Medicine."
    "So you don't believe in any natural remedies?"
    "On the contrary Storm, actually
    Before we came to tea, I took a natural remedy derived from the bark of a willow tree
    A painkiller, virtually side-effect free
    It's got a weird name, darling, what was it again?
    M-masprin? Basprin? Oh yeah! Asprin!
    Which I paid about a buck for down at the local drugstore
    The debate briefly abates as my hosts collect plates
    But as they return with desserts Storm pertly asserts
    Shakespeare said it first
    There are more things in heaven and earth than exist in your philosophy
    Science is just how we're trained to look at reality
    It doesn't explain love or spirituality
    How does science explain psychics? Auras? The afterlife? The power of prayer?
    I'm becoming aware that I'm staring, I'm like a rabbit
    Suddenly trapped in the blinding headlights of vacuous crap
    Maybe it's the Hamlet she just misquothed or the 5th glass of wine I just quaffed
    But my diplomacy dike groans and the arsehole held back by its stones can be held back no more
    Look, Storm, sorry I don't mean to bore you but there's no such thing as an aura!
    Reading Auras is like reading minds or tea-leaves or star-signs or meridian lines
    These people aren't applying a skill, they're either lying or mentally ill
    Same goes for people who claim to hear God's demands or Spiritual healers who think they've got magic hands
    By the way, why do we think it is it OK for people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
    Isn't that totally fucked in the head?
    Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
    And telling her you're in touch with the other side?
    I think that's fundamentally sick
    Do we need to clarify here that there's no such thing as a psychic?
    What are we, fucking 2?
    Do we actually think that Horton Heard a Who?
    Do we still believe that Santa brings us gifts?
    That Michael Jackson didn't had facelifts?
    Are we still so stunned by circus tricks that we think that the dead would wanna talk to pricks like John Edwards?
    Storm to her credit despite my derision keeps firing off clichés with startling precision
    Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition
    You're so sure of your position but you're just closed-minded
    I think you'll find that your faith in science and tests is just as blind as the faith of any fundamentalist
    Wow that's a good point, let me think for a bit
    Oh wait, my mistake, that's absolute bullshit
    Science adjusts it's views based on what's observed
    Faith is the denial of observation so that belief can be preserved
    If you show me that
    Say, homeopathy works, then I will change my mind
    I'll spin on a fucking dime
    I'll be embarrassed as hell, but I will run through the streets yelling
    It's a miracle! Take physics and bin it!
    Water has memory!
    And whilst its memory of a long lost drop of onion juice seems infinite
    It somehow forgets all the poo it's had in it!
    You show me that it works and how it works
    And when I've recovered from the shock
    I will take a compass and carve 'Fancy That' on the side of my cock.
    Everyone's just staring now
    But I'm pretty pissed and I've dug this far down
    So I figure, in for penny, in for a pound
    Life is full of mystery, yeah
    But there are answers out there
    And they won't be found by people sitting around looking serious and saying 'Isn't life mysterious?'
    Let's sit here and hope.
    Let's call up the fucking Pope.
    Let's go watch Oprah interview Deepak Chopra
    If you wanna watch telly, you should watch Scooby Doo
    That show was so cool because every time there was a church with a ghoul or a ghost in a school
    They looked beneath the mask and what was inside?
    The fucking janitor or the dude who ran the waterslide
    Because throughout history
    Every mystery ever solved
    Has turned out to be
    Not magic
    Does the idea that there might be knowledge frighten you?
    Does the idea that one afternoon on Wiki-fucking-pedia might enlighten you frighten you?
    Does the notion
    That there might not be a supernatural so blow your hippy noodle
    You'd rather just stand in the fog of your inability to Google?
    Isn't this enough?
    Just this world?
    Just this
    Beautiful, complex, wonderfully unfathomable, natural world
    How does it so fail to hold our attention that we have to diminish it with the invention of
    Cheap, man-made myths and monsters?
    If you're so into your Shakespeare
    Lend me your ear
    "To gild refined gold
    To paint the lily
    T throw perfume on the violet
    Is just fucking silly"
    Or something like that
    Or what about Satchmo?!
    "I see trees of Green
    Red roses too"
    And fine, if you wish to glorify Krishna and Vishnu in a post-colonial, condescending bottled-up and labeled kind of way then whatever, that's ok
    But here's what gives me a hard-on
    I am a tiny
    Insignificant, ignorant bit of carbon
    I have one life
    And it is short and unimportant
    But thanks to recent scientific advances
    I get to live twice
    As long as my great great great great uncleses and auntses
    Twice as long
    To live this life of mine
    Twice as long to love this wife of mine
    Twice as many years of friends and wine
    Of sharing curries and getting shitty at good-looking hippies with fairies on their spines and butterflies on their titties
    And if perchance I have offended
    Think but this and all is mended
    We'd as well be 10 minutes back in time for all the chance you'll change your mind
    Songwriters: Timothy Minchin. For non-commercial use only.
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  3. Tim Minchin Lyrics, Songs, and Albums | Genius

    WEBTim Minchin (born 1975) is an Australian comedian, actor, composer, songwriter, pianist, and musical director. He was born in Northampton, England, and grew up in Perth, Western.

     
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