Axeman Blues
FinsburyParkCarrots
Posts: 12,223
(c) me 2009 etc etc legal legal schmegal etc
I wrote this song today. It's all about a failed axe-murderer who considers a career-change in show-business. I'll record a demo later.
I boarded the bus with my big black axe
I cried, "I'm the bad monstah who's done those attacks:
You've read in the papers and you've seen on TV
about the need to keep clear of a killer like me
I'm the scourge of your neighbourhood street
and I've come for your hands and your feet ..."
But no-one looked up, no-one seemed to care
about my frothing at mouth or my thousand-yard stare
or the blood that was curdling the white of my shirt:
No-one gave a damn about my mortal alert!
I swung my axe and I screamed like a horse,
and cried, "You know I'm not joking ... of course?"
But someone made to yawn and someone made to cough
and this bloke said "Excuse me, I have to get off"
and he stepped past me, making his way to the door
and never turned around when I let out a roar:
I brought the axe down on his head,
Making pretty showers of red ...
An old man in a raincoat who should have been vexed
Came forward and piped, "Can you do me, please, next?
I'm tired of reading that I need to be scared
of the smallest of things and it's got me prepared
to face your fat blade like a king:
Strike now, make a mess of the thing."
Everyone jumped up: "Hey, kill me!" "No, me!"
I groaned, "Won't you even make an effort to flee?"
Everyone said no, and moved forward as one
Smiling for the deadliest deed to be done
and I dropped down my axe at this fuss,
and yelled, "Let me off this goddamn bus!"
So, now my axe-murdering days are gone
and no-one gets the steel shave down to the bone
and I've found a new way to be always ignored
by the hip and the smug and the blase and bored:
I get up and sing on a stage
(Now I guess I'm just showing my age) ....
I wrote this song today. It's all about a failed axe-murderer who considers a career-change in show-business. I'll record a demo later.
I boarded the bus with my big black axe
I cried, "I'm the bad monstah who's done those attacks:
You've read in the papers and you've seen on TV
about the need to keep clear of a killer like me
I'm the scourge of your neighbourhood street
and I've come for your hands and your feet ..."
But no-one looked up, no-one seemed to care
about my frothing at mouth or my thousand-yard stare
or the blood that was curdling the white of my shirt:
No-one gave a damn about my mortal alert!
I swung my axe and I screamed like a horse,
and cried, "You know I'm not joking ... of course?"
But someone made to yawn and someone made to cough
and this bloke said "Excuse me, I have to get off"
and he stepped past me, making his way to the door
and never turned around when I let out a roar:
I brought the axe down on his head,
Making pretty showers of red ...
An old man in a raincoat who should have been vexed
Came forward and piped, "Can you do me, please, next?
I'm tired of reading that I need to be scared
of the smallest of things and it's got me prepared
to face your fat blade like a king:
Strike now, make a mess of the thing."
Everyone jumped up: "Hey, kill me!" "No, me!"
I groaned, "Won't you even make an effort to flee?"
Everyone said no, and moved forward as one
Smiling for the deadliest deed to be done
and I dropped down my axe at this fuss,
and yelled, "Let me off this goddamn bus!"
So, now my axe-murdering days are gone
and no-one gets the steel shave down to the bone
and I've found a new way to be always ignored
by the hip and the smug and the blase and bored:
I get up and sing on a stage
(Now I guess I'm just showing my age) ....
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