When they tell me the story is relevant to me
I deny it...

Once I've finished the egg, I tear up the foil
Into pieces of silver...

And after I've licked the last traces from my fingers
I wash my hands...

I don't like parties.
I generally avoid them.
But one night
I allow myself to get dragged along
To one such gathering
Against my better judgement.

But that's not my greatest fear.

At the party
The drink is flowing
And people start to do stupid things.
Lots of goofing around
Photographs are taken
Including one of me
With a bra draped over my head
And two cocktail sausages
Stuck up my nose.

But that's not my greatest fear.

After the party
I stagger home
Drunk
And somehow
For reasons which aren't clear
I am abducted
By a group of armed terrorists.

But that's not my greatest fear.

I remain in captivity
For ten years
And during that time
Occasional appeals are made
For my release
And each time I am mentioned on TV
They show the last photo taken of me

...With a bra draped over my head
And two cocktail sausages
Stuck up my nose.

And that,
Ladies and gentlemen,
Is my very greatest fear.

When I was younger
Much younger
I used to dream of riches
And a chauffeur driven car.

But then I grew up
Fell in love
Raised a family

And they became my gold

Worth more to me
Than anything else.

But occasionally
I'd still think about that car
Just for a moment...

Well,
Look at me now!
Who'd have thought it?

I'm on my way to see them
In a chauffeur driven car

Surrounded by
Their beautiful flowers.

It's a charming little song,
A Christmas hit for "Wings"
So what is it that makes me smile,
When Paul McCartney sings?...

Well, I'm afraid that title,
Once had a different sense,
A guideline used by censors,
Who checked films for offence.

The Mull, on maps of Scotland,
Sticks out at an angle,
That was the legal limit,
An actor's "part" could dangle.

He's playing the harmonica,
Drums and cymbals too,
An accordion between his hands,
Bells upon each shoe.

He entertains the passers-by,
Coins land in his cap,
They gasp to see so many things,
Done by just one chap.

A mother watches, unimpressed,
I think with good cause.
For though she's doing more than him,
She gets no applause.

It was a lie.

But it made me feel
Slightly better about my life

As I stood there
Alone

Waiting for the ping.

She opens her mouth
And the words tumble out
In a strange language.

She can't control
The incessant voices
Inside her head
Telling her to say things
Whether she wants to or not.

People have always told her
It's a rare gift.

But as time passes
It feels more like a curse

Until one day
She decides
She can't take it anymore
And walks out

Leaving silence
In their headphones.