| Ode to Mark Morriss, Peeled Bananas and Sliding Doors |
Ode to Mark Morriss, Bourbon and LiverpoolMark Morriss, not just a regular Tone, His hair's so brilliant that it hurts my eyes, Is that the work of Pantene? Drinking bourbon from a mason jar, And lowering his sperm count, Every sperm is sacred, you know. Frailty thy name is Manics, So much hype and not a patch on my Tones, But we like them the way they are, Ours, Not some pop-loving 10-year-old girl’s, But ours, They break their spirits and their backs for us, Us and us only, And the money, But mainly us, Us and us only, And the fame, But mainly us. People when they change their minds, It’s a telltale sign that they’re female, It’s a ladies prerogative to change her mind, Was I surprised? Yeh, Was I surprised? No, not at all. Got hitched like a good boy should on Wednesday, To Emily, And carved my name in her spine, And got arrested, But it’s all part of the fun, L-I-V-E-R-P-Double O-L Liverpool FC, They’ll never walk alone all night in search of you, But I would (if I was gay). |
| My idol, Mark Morriss, | |
| An overlooked star, You surely can’t miss | |
| The talent when he sings “nah, | |
| Nah nah nah nah, | |
| Nah nah nah nah nah, | |
| Nah nah nah nah nah, | |
| Nah nah nah nah, | |
| Nah nah nah nah, | |
| Nah nah nah nah”. | |
| Lets Seran Wrap for the weekend, | |
| Whatever that may mean, | |
| We could go and break some windows, | |
| And get arrested, | |
| But it’s all part of the fun, | |
| Like carving your name in someone’s spine, | |
| Emily perhaps, though I dare say she’ll whine. | |
| A little knob would really do the job? | |
| Say NO MORE, | |
| As it were, | |
| But maybe I want to say more, | |
| What is it with little knobs? | |
| What happened to handles? | |
| Or sliding doors? | |
| Or saloon doors, | |
| Last Chance saloon doors, | |
| Through which you can return, | |
| Slightly. | |
| What can I say without being profound? | |
| Well according to my idol it's a game that we play, | |
| It goes round and around, | |
| And around and around, | |
| And around and around, | |
| Rushing through your head, | |
| And seeping through your skin, | |
| Unwrapped and undone, | |
| Like a peeled banana, | |
| Or a favourite son. | |
| He makes me happy when I was happy to start with, | |
| And high when I was low to start with, | |
| And gives me a warm feeling inside, | |
| That I just can’t hide, | |
| I wanna cut some rug, | |
| Like the Blitzkrieg and the Doodlebug, | |
| Or salt upon a bubbling slug, | |
| Cos he makes me happy when I was happy to start with, | |
| My idol, Mark Morriss, | |
| My gay no.1. |