count lovely
und spike rest a while on large bales of hay, sundry farmyard animals scratch
about in the forground, und various extras, dressed as generic cowboys
und girls mill about laughing being
'all southern'
your hosts grab microphones, und begin
sometimes it's hard to be a Pretty
Lady
givin' all your love to The
Divine David
you'll have bad times
he'll have good times
Doin' things that you don't
understand
But if you love him,
you'll forgive him
even though he's hard to understand
and if you love him
be proud of him
'cause after all he is Britain's
premier avant garde artiste
Stand by your most revered avant
garde icon
give him two arms to cling to
and something warm to
come to
when nachts are cold und lonely
Stand by your most revered avant
garde icon
and show the world you love
him
keep giving all the love you
can
Stand by your most revered avant
garde icon
and show the world you love
him
keep giving all the love you
can
Stand
by
our most revered... avant garde...
icooooonnn
as your hosts down microphones, the extras perform the ritualistic slaughter of a nearby mule, skewering its corpse upon a spit und roasting it, they then gather around und consume the semi cooked flesh, the blood soaking their chins und gingham gowns/dungarees as a man with a banjo impales himself upon a pitchfork in the name of all that is 'country'
the lights dim