Текст песне : Joe Jackson. Passacaglia / A Bud and a Slice.
Give me a bud and a slice
And leave me alone
If I want your advice, I'll ask ya
They tell me that caviar's nice, but I wouldn't know
So, what's it to you?
Who needs your airs?
And your micro brew
Look at the sun
See how it hangs
So still in the sky
Give me the new TV guide
And get off the phone
Go on and take sides, it's not my problem
Waiting for worlds to collide in the comfort of home
They say, ?Lucifer's free?
What shall we do?
Don't ask me
But it's not like I never go beyond these walls
I've got culture
I go to the movies
Last week saw the new Tarantino
Starring 'Shit what's that guy's name?'
Again you know the scene where they put the blowtorch to his balls
Bloody brilliant, my daughter threw up, she didn't understand
I told her it's just like the Beano
It's not real and if it was, well, so what?
Come on lighten up, let's all lighten up
Give me a bud and a slice
And leave out the book
I've got one of those, thank you
As for the guru you prize, he might be a crook
And LA is so hot
Still, I might go or might not
Look at the sun
See how it hangs
So still in the sky
And leave me alone
If I want your advice, I'll ask ya
They tell me that caviar's nice, but I wouldn't know
So, what's it to you?
Who needs your airs?
And your micro brew
Look at the sun
See how it hangs
So still in the sky
Give me the new TV guide
And get off the phone
Go on and take sides, it's not my problem
Waiting for worlds to collide in the comfort of home
They say, ?Lucifer's free?
What shall we do?
Don't ask me
But it's not like I never go beyond these walls
I've got culture
I go to the movies
Last week saw the new Tarantino
Starring 'Shit what's that guy's name?'
Again you know the scene where they put the blowtorch to his balls
Bloody brilliant, my daughter threw up, she didn't understand
I told her it's just like the Beano
It's not real and if it was, well, so what?
Come on lighten up, let's all lighten up
Give me a bud and a slice
And leave out the book
I've got one of those, thank you
As for the guru you prize, he might be a crook
And LA is so hot
Still, I might go or might not
Look at the sun
See how it hangs
So still in the sky