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Tim Minchin – Mitsubishi Colt tekst i tłumaczenie (po kliknięciu) piosenki

Mitsubishi Colt - Tim Minchin

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This is a song about a conversation I had with stockbroker

It´s actually a beat poem. Cool hmm?

It´s called Mitsubishi Colt

He looks at me intensely

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 figure 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 36

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 fucking Darlene

She’s got tits

Like those chicks