From time to time I get a burst of creative energy, but not quite creative enough to write my own songs, so I do a parody. Apparently other people get these urges too because they've sent a few in.

No offense is intended by these songs

11th April 1997
Earthed@geocities.com has done a parody of Lost


Lost



Sometimes I'm wandering under prehistoric skies



I feel thereís a pterodactyl after my eyes



I must go back - left my house keys behind







Here she comes with her penetrating stare



She looked at my mind and saw how much was there



Quick calculation - there's not nearly enough











CHORUS	Because we're lost



			Have we got cash?



			Cold desert stars



			Feel them fall from the sky			



			I want some pie







Follow her down to worship some god



Who tells me iím pretentious - i wonder if that's odd



Then he says, 'You're never listening'







'The pursuit of adulation is your marg and your bread



It's an exquisite corpse and its lips are red



But it donít go well on toast







CHORUS	And you are lost



			Where is your map?



			Now hang up 'cause 



			Madonnaís on hold



			She is so boldí







If you're alone and you're feeling blue



Everyone in Persia probablyís eating stew



I just hope they donít get stuff in their beards







Here she comes with her unforgiving web



This Gothic look is really scraping the dregs



It must be time to change our hair care, stare







CHORUS	Oh yes weíre lost



			Where are my keys?



			Look at the map 



			Now add up the cost



			Do they take Visa?




28th March 1996
Here's Glen Thomas' Grinchillusionist


Okay, with Willy Wonka out of the way, here's my stab at "The Church tole Christmas." To the tune of "The Disillusionist."

He's sour and he's cranky
Mean as well as lanky
On a day like today
Scowling from his sleigh

He's like a gecko on steroids
More than a little paranoid
Thieving all the goodies
While you think "how could he?"

He can turn dogs into reindeer
Spoil all the day's cheer
Bet you he'll eat well
While he pockets your dinner bell

They say that he's ugly
From the head down
And the "heart" part of his body is a corpse
But in the end he's sweet
And gives back all the treats
On Christmas, the Grinch, he's no longer warped

It's missing phrases, I know. Not my best literary effort, and definitely proof that I need a life. More verses, anyone?


Back to Brian's stuff.....

Trendy Internet / Shadow Cabinet

Now
Get into Netscape and browse
Look at the things it allows

"Internet Fever" - It'll push up the sales
Can you quote Python and the Holy Grail ?
Read about whales or read about Wales, got to
Make my own home page

Hear
Sounds sent from Sweden to here
"Thïs is my døg drïnkïng beer"

Flames come first as a scathing flood
"RTFM you thick newbie dud !" This is the shedding of Internet blood
It's happening, I think

Once was nerdy
Click, click, link, MGET
Now it's groovy
Inside the trendy Internet

She offers file transfers to me
Ships all her warez FTP

Do not ask for whom tolls the bell
As millions connect to find out for themselves
That there's bugger all here, 'cept what you put here yourself, and it's
Owned by Bill Gates Inc.

Once was nerdy
Click, click, link, MGET
Now it's groovy
Inside the trendy Internet


Ketchup Stains / Dropping Names

"I want these clothes to beautiful"
My customers always think
But the laundry game isn't always clean
Usually it stinks

Immovable streaks from where the dog peed
They make me want to turn to drink
If we work the long nights we'll get them out of sight
Soak 'em in bleach and it'll be alright

Altering corsets, it numbs my brain
Questionable sauces
Only ketchup stains, ketchup stains....

(Note: Yes, I wrote that just to get the last two lines into some kind of context :) )


Here's a few that I wrote in April '95.


Metropolis 



(You need to know that Marty doesn't know how to drive a car)







There'll never be another quite like me



I'm in The Church and my name's Steve Kilbey



I'm always sad, I'll never be happy



Cos I write songs but don't know what they mean







Back in a minibus, it smells like a wrestler's truss



Our next gig's in a shop



It gets monotonous, no-one wants to tour with us



Please come back Ploog and Koppes







Things ain't so good since those two guys left us



Our contract's gone and things are getting rough



If they come back I'd let them do their thing



But I'd draw the line at letting Peter sing







Back in acoustic mode, we like doing two-man shows



We can do all our songs



Give me a microphone, I will sing in monotone



With Marty strumming along



Back on the stage we go, we won't do Unguarded Mo'



But which song should we do ?



Let's do "Grind" really slow, hey, where'd the audience go ?



There's just no pleasing them two







And it's only a smoke away



I'll be there toni-i-i-ight



Find the meaning I'm sure was there


When I wrote it last night







To hell with life, it's over, stop the ride



I'm sick of it, I'm going to suicide



Should I use a gun or a gleaming knife ?



Bugger it !  I'll just let Marty drive !











Reputation (Destination)







Our instruments have no way of measuring your feelings



Can never peer into your mind to see what you believe in



In the space between our albums, your memory of us fading



If you buy this record our careers you will be saving







Reputation, reputation







Draconian charts let us know



How well we have done, how well we have sold



Our contract is safe, the album went "Gold"



Our reputation starting to grow







Our interviews are useless or forged beyond believing



Rolling Stone made up some lies, we'll sue them by this evening



In the space between my brain cells some songs have been discovered



Rush into the studio, record them, sell them, try to help our...







....Reputation, reputation







It's not a religion, despite our name



Though Peter and Marty act like Abel and Cain



And Kilbey and Ploog always fight over drugs



Is reputation helped by this stuff ?







Our engineers are burnt out, our roadies are mistreated



I tell you it's the only way this record will be completed



In the space between our concerts our hearing is diminished



We can't go on if we can't tell who's playing and who's finished







Reputation, reputation











Violent Town (the LA tribute removed from Starfish)



(To the tune of...you guessed it...Violet Town)



Smashing his face against the ground



They said "Welcome back to Violent Town



You look kind of strange, so you must pay



Get out of my face and "Have a nice day !"







When I'm here I have this feeling



I wish I could go from Violent Town







Buildings throw shade to freeze the ground



It's cold when you walk through Violent Town



Don't look in their eyes, they'll take offense



And probably sue for recompense







Rpt. Chorus







Big truth progress, it's all around



They're so advanced here in Violent Town



Boys with bazookas, girls with grenades



Bribe cops with credit cards or pay cash and save !