Tism - Morrison Hostel lyrics

Jimbo, boy, you're a crock of sh** 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 got 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 You're mysticism's a lump of sh** And so are all the girls you've rooted So don't talk about being sad and lonely or f**ing misunderstood 'cause underneath that self-pitying phoney Is a selfish, brutal hood I support the police that took you off stage I support the fact you bled I support the cops who carried you off I support the fact you're dead I think that you're a troubled guy And I think that's 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 c*nt to say sorry Your fans would excuse every rudeness Just 'cause it comes from you You'd tell them to go drop dead And they'd say "oh how true, how true, how true" You need a nine-to-five job, Jimbo You need to get to Flinders Street by train Go and find yourself a regular income Then you can write a song about pain Try and save for the kiddie's school fees Take some care when you drive a car Put your goddamn rubbish in a bin You f**ing great rock superstar You have spawned a host of co*k-sure sh**s That are nearly always filthy rich And think 'cause they're a little like ol' Jimbo They can act like stinking pricks An army of brainless arty youth They look down upon us common plods But they barrack for good ol' Morrison Like the f**ing Richmond cheer squad So when you're listening to Morrisons Hostel 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' At least if daddy will drive Jimbo. King of the private school kids The girls from PLC who identify with his tortured soul 'cause they've just dropped boyfriend number three He was Kent from Xavier College, In HSC he got an A for English But between Jimbo and William Blake He hasn't the f**ing brains to distinguish Jimbo. Father of a generation of private school depression idols From Nick Cave on they don't k** 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'. Sorry, I meant 'Hugo Race' Well, up your arse, Jimbo ol' man, up your f**ing 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 f**ing at it, Up your arse to Morrissey as well Up your arse to Robert Smith, Up your arse to Albert Camus All those "I'm suffering for my art"-y types Jimbo, I blame them all on you And everyone who handles life's pain With a token of mature self-examination, It's time these ponces were told to stick it Up their bogus self-enfatuation But if you're after true self-indulgence Then the conclusions still aren't final 'cause if you thought Jim Morisson was a wa*ker, Well, Christ, you've just bought this f**ing bit of vinyl! Up Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo Up Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo Up Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo Up Jimbo, Jimbo...