Here is a spoken word song from WHEN. Back in the early 90s Tim Farriss (INXS) was interested in doing something with this and we spent a bit of time on it but he was a little bit busy then with the band and it languished while I went off to be a novelist and screenwriter. But now I’m back recording and after it went went in my author talks with @Tony Durant and @Martin Cilia I thought it was too good to waste. Jim Moginie (Midnight Oil) did a fabulous Manzarek style keyboard on it. The artwork is by my long time friend and talented artist David Rose. By the way the line about Trump was in the original version back in about 92 – little did I realise….
WOMAN WHO DROWNED IN HER OWN APARTMENT
This is a song about a woman who drowned in her own apartment
She knew the value of a sou but she didn’t know what art-ment
Sure she could plot its return on a comparative yield curve
But her heart remained empty though her fridge was full of Veuve
She wore smart suits to the battlefield of the Nikkei and the Dow
She rode a dow in Aswan and a swan in Macau
She was a woman of the next millennium but despite all this
She drowned in her own condominium
This is a song about a woman who drowned in her own apartment
It began with a leaky tap just a drip no great excitement
It was beneath her to call a plumber and anyway their prices were too high
She thought her brains would keep her rich and her pride would keep her dry
Hey `wdya wdya’ she was a woman in control
She’d golfed from Gaza to Ginza to the Plaza del Sol
So though her shoes were damp from the strange irrigation still she felt no need to panic at this minor irritation
By the time she called her broker her nail-artist and her shrink
The contents of her flat were under threat from the contents of her sink
But in the executive mind common sense abounds
She stripped her wet clothes from her body moved the cat to higher ground
She glad-wrapped her Walkman and Calvin Klein raincoat
She floated her Sondheims on condoms inflated
She refused to call for help-what would her friends say?
And so she drowned at one pm on a Wednesday
They say as you drown your whole life flashes before your eyes
So what she saw was no more than she could buy
And did she fret and pout as death called her to his disco?
No though she was pissed that now she’d miss that ball in San Francisco
Her crowd were unforgiving sorts, they’d not forget the snub
She had clubbed with Trump, trumped with clubs
But prestige doesn’t help when you’re running out of headroom
A fireman with tats found her bobbing against the ceiling of her bedroom
That was a song about a woman who drowned in her own apartment
She knew the value of a sou but she didn’t know what art-meant
She sought the meaning of life but won only the meanness of death
She rode a dow in Aswan but she ran out of breath
In her own condominium at one pm on a Wednesday,
With barely a sound
She drowned
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