Tism - Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene II, Verse 73-118) lyrics

Second Plebeian: Peace! Let us hear what Anthony can say Anthony: You gentle Romans- All: Peace, ho! Let us hear him Anthony: I come to praise, not to bury, the shoddy and the rooted - To lament for the pa**ing of those men, Safari suited Who'd flatten you with mindless glee when they got really newted Behind the bottleshop you'd see the roughest justice done: Yeah, it was a**ault and battery - but with a sense of fun And a drink together after, when the ambulance had come Who would have thought you'd ever miss the barmaid's brutal snarl And guys looking at you strange while she says, "What's yours, darl?" "Wanna go?" is all you recall, before the blow and grand mal "You gotta f**ing mouth on ya," those moustached yobs would say Back when being literate was something to hide away And being mediocre meant you played in the V.F.A But now everyone is talking, and it's oh so tres witty: All those f**ing D.J's and their flashy repartee - It's always breakfast down in Hell, and radio compulsory From McGuiness to McGuire to Douglas f**ing Aiton There's a whole new type of person that's takin' over this damn nation: And I'm not talkin' some racist crap about Asian immigration - If you're a yobbo now, you're rooted; no one says, "I'll 'ave ya, pal" - Listen to Adrian Martin, Jon Casimir, et al: Excellence is demanded, or the critics give you hell Everyone's got a f**ing voice - there's personae right and left: They must learn this stuff in school: I mean, what f**ing next? Even the E.G cadets crap on, then move to the London desk Who needs another columnist to point out that the thing 'Bout living in the suburbs is that it ain't like Berlin? - Just in case all of you in Melton were ever wondering I tell you what can get f**ed, and that's f**ing them for starters: If there's one thing we just don't need, it's another mouthy smartarse Slagging off the guys who wear footy shorts and zappatas You know who we've swapped them for? People who say "rad" And blokes who go round reading books on being a modern dad - Why, everything's so cool these days, I can't even understand Telstra ads Excellence surrounds us like a f**ing voodoo curse: There's Helen Garner's sister's book; there's all of modern verse; There's world's best practice, and business men talking terse On mobile phones on a mobile net that reaches round the earth; Everything is excellent: nowadays, there's nothing worse Than saying "I don't give a sh**": you'd be in a f**ing hearse Driven by some consultant git who's an*lyzed your system And wants to fully integrate you into modern wisdom: He's gonna take you by the balls and flush you down the cistern You know what k**ed the Anzacs? It weren't the f**ing Turks It was the Australians coming after them talking up the perks Of f**ing multi-sk**ing and how the Internet f**ing works So give me back the good old days, though I know they really stank When everyone could seem to tell when you were talking wa*k And we didn't all have to go around pretending to be Yanks Give us back those great ideas that made this nation free Like the end of season footy trip, and inefficiency And if they aren't part of freedom - well, who gives a f**? Not me Why find voice now at this stage, when silence was just fine? Why learn to talk in coffee shops? It's a f**ing wa*k, for mine Coathanger one of these effete guys, next thing you know he's cryin' The one thing good 'bout dumbing down is you're not so f**ing smart; I thought Australia was the country that had a silent heart - It's time we just shutf**ingup. I know what. I'll start