| Ode to Chesters
Oh to be paid to hit things with sticks And sit on a tourbus watching Bill Hicks My cheeky drum fills the talk of a nation I'd sit getting caned and playing Playstation I'd get to start Zorrro and count in Bluetonic My drink is Ribena, my haircut is chronic We'd dress up as firemen in our souwesters Oh, what I'd give to become Eds Chesters. |
Drummers'
Lament
They sit at the back and hold down a beat But nobody stops them when they're on the street Except for Phil Collins, but he was the singer And he doesn't count, the short balding minger If you saw Eds Chesters would you even suss? He could be behind you on tomorrow's bus The unsung hero of guitar pop's front wingers And you'd still be pointing at bassists and singers He probably sat at the back of the class I bet he gets bored of Mark Morriss's arse A view so familiar, he can't see the fans Shouting at Devlin and waving their hands Now he's got a web site which at least is a start For the nation to learn about Chesters' art A scholar, a gent, an inventor, a thinker A curly haired Dad-faced Ribena drinker Chesters, we salute you, king of the planet For ####'s ####ing sake, ####ing stop snoring, Janet. |