Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mitsubishi Colt, artist - Tim Minchin. Album song So Fucking Rock, in the genre Date of issue: 28.11.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Laughing Stock
Song language: English
Mitsubishi Colt |
| He looks at me intensely |
| Eyes contact lens green with artifical envy |
| Cocks his head and fixes me with a condescending stare |
| Flicks his bleached, blond tipped hair |
| And theorises thus: |
| «You know what I reckon?» |
| Pause for effect |
| Adjusts his tackle as if it’s semi-erect |
| I feel I’d better give him what I know he expects: |
| «What do you reckon?» |
| A hand on the shoulder |
| An avuncular wink |
| Sips his lemon drink |
| Spits out the pips |
| Hands on hips |
| Licks his lips |
| Like a wolf near a flock |
| Yet again adjusting his fantasy cock |
| He delivers his philosophy |
| «I reckon it don’t matter |
| It don’t mean squat |
| What you earn or what you got |
| Or the style of your hair |
| Or what you wear |
| It matters not |
| «Like what do you care |
| That I live on a hill with views of the beach? |
| That my chick and my dogs have an en-suite bathroom each? |
| That I’ve already reached my first million and I’m only 26? |
| You’re as thick as two bricks |
| If you think you can fix |
| What is broke in your life with money |
| And the funny thing is And I shit you not |
| That I’d give it all up like that!» |
| He leaves me to ponder his wisdom for a bit |
| And with a click of his fingers |
| Beckons the blondest, bimbo-est barmaid |
| And grinning ridiculously |
| Orders a G and T And a beer, for me And before I can escape |
| He’s back saying, |
| «Cos mate, the thing is All of that crap |
| It’s all superficial |
| It’s all just a front |
| Anyone can be a rich cunt |
| But the thing we all want |
| Can’t be bought with dosh |
| You know what I mean, boss? |
| Cos you don’t give a toss |
| That when I want to get slim |
| I’ve got my own private gym |
| And a personal trainer called… Danielle or fuckin’Darlene |
| She’s got tits |
| Like those chicks |
| In Ralph magazine |
| «And it’s not like you care |
| That I own the controlling share |
| Of an overseas company |
| That builds accounting software |
| It matters not one bit |
| I mean who gives a shit |
| That I earn six hundred grand |
| And drive a brand new land rover? |
| You know I would hand it all over like that!» |
| He pauses for a beat |
| Long enough for me to retreat to a seat |
| And sit, elbow on the bar |