Storm - Live Lyrics

Song	Storm - Live
Artist	Tim Minchin
Album	Ready for This?
Download	Image LRC TXT

	Inner North
	London, top floor flat
	All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
	Rice Paper partitions,
	Modern art and ambition
	The host’s a physician,
	Bright bloke, has his own practice
	His girlfriend’s an actress
	An old mate of ours from home
	And they’re always great fun.
	So to dinner we’ve come.
	The 5th guest is an unknown,
	The hosts have just thrown us together for a favor 'cause this girl’s just arrived from
	Australia
	And she's moved to
	North London
	And she’s the sister of someone
	Or has some connection.
	As we make introductions
	I’m struck by her beauty
	She’s irrefutably fair
	With dark eyes and dark hair
	But as she sits
	I admit I’m a little bit wary because
	I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
	Tattooed on that popular area
	Just above the derrière
	And when she says “
	I’m Sagittarien”
	I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
	And is immediately filled with pigeon
	When she says her name is
	Storm. Conversation is initially bright and light hearted
	But it’s not long before
	Storm gets started: “
	You can’t know anything,
	Knowledge is merely opinion”
	She opines, over her
	Cabernet Sauvignon
	Vis a vis
	Some unhippily
	Not a good start”
	I think We’re only on pre-dinner drinks
	And across the room, my wife
	Widens her eyes
	Silently begs me:
	Be Nice! A matrimonial warning
	Not worth ignoring
	So I resist the urge to ask
	Storm Whether knowledge is so loose-weave
	Of a morning
	When deciding whether to leave
	Her apartment by the front door
	Or a window on her second floor.
	The food is delicious and
	Storm, Whilst avoiding all meat
	Happily sits and eats
	As the good doctor, slightly pissedly
	Holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history
	When Storm suddenly insists “
	But the human body is a mystery!
	Science just falls in a hole
	When it tries to explain the the nature of the soul.”
	My hostess throws me a glance
	She, like my wife, knows there’s a chance
	I’ll be off on one of my rare, but fun, rants
	But I shan't.
	My lips are sealed.
	I just want to enjoy the meal
	And although
	Storm is starting to get my goat
	I have no intention of rocking the boat,
	Although it’s becoming a bit of a wrestle
	Because -- like her meteorological namesake -
	Storm has no such concerns for our vessel. “
	Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy
	They promote drug dependency
	At the cost of the natural remedies
	That are all our bodies need
	They are immoral and driven by greed.
	Why take drugs
	When herbs can solve it?
	Why use chemicals
	When homeopathic solvents
	Can resolve it?
	It’s time we all return to live
	With natural medical alternatives.”
	And try as
	I like, A small crack appears
	In my diplomacy-dike. “
	By definition”,
	I begin “Alternative
	Medicine”,
	I continue “
	Has either not been proved to work,
	Or been proved not to work.
	Do you know what they call “alternative medicine”
	That’s been proved to work?
	Medicine.” “
	So you don’t believe
	In ANY Natural remedies?” “
	On the contrary,
	Storm. Actually, before we came to tea,
	I took a remedy
	Derived from the bark of a willow tree
	A painkiller that’s virtually side-effect free
	It’s got a weird name,
	Darling, what was it again?
	Masprin? Basprin?
	Oh, yes. Asprin!
	Which I paid about a buck for
	Down at the local drugstore.
	The debate briefly abates
	As our hosts collects plates but as they return with desserts
	Storm pertly asserts, “
	Shakespeare said it first:
	There are more things in heaven and earth
	Than exist in your philosophy…
	Science is just how we’re trained to look at reality,
	It doesn't explain love or spirituality.
	How does science explain psychics?
	Auras; the afterlife; the power of prayer?”
	I’m becoming aware
	That I’m staring,
	I’m like a rabbit suddenly trapped
	In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
	Maybe it’s the
	Hamlet she just misquothed
	Or the eighth glass of wine
	I just quaffed
	But my diplomacy dike groans
	And the arsehole held back by its stones
	Can be held back no more: “
	Look , Storm,
	I don’t mean to bore ya
	But there’s no such thing as an aura!
	Reading Auras is like reading minds
	Or tea-leaves or star-signs or meridian lines
	These people aren’t plying a skill,
	They are either lying or mentally ill.
	Same goes for people who claim they can hear
	God’s demands
	Or spiritual healers who think they've got magic hands.
	By the way,
	Why do we think it's
	OK For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
	Isn't that totally ****ed in the head?
	Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
	And telling her you’re in touch with the other side?
	I think that’s just fundamentally sick
	Do we need to clarify here that there’s no such thing as a psychic?
	What, are we ****ing 2?
	Do we actually think that
	Horton Heard a
	Who? Do we still believe that
	Santa brings us gifts?
	That Michael
	Jackson didn't have face lifts?
	Are we still so stunned by circus tricks
	That we think that the dead would
	Wanna talk to pricks
	Like John
	Edwards? Storm to her credit despite my derision
	Keeps firing off clichés with startling precision
	Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition “
	You’re so sure of your position
	But you’re just closed-minded
	I think you’ll find
	That your faith in science and tests
	Is just as blind
	As the faith of any fundamentalist” “
	Wow, that’s a good point, let me think for a bit
	Oh wait, my mistake, that’s absolute bullshit.
	Science adjusts it’s views based on what’s observed
	Faith is the denial of observation so that
	Belief can be preserved.
	If you show me
	That, say, homeopathy works,
	Then I will change my mind
	I’ll spin on a ****ing dime
	I’ll be as embarrassed as hell,
	But I will run through the streets yelling
	It’s a miracle!
	Take physics and bin it!
	Water has memory!
	And while it’s memory of a long lost drop of onion juice is
	Infinite It somehow forgets all the poo it’s had in it!
	You show me that it works and how it works
	And when I’ve recovered from the shock
	I will take a compass and carve
	Fancy That on the side of my cock.”
	Everyone's just staring now,
	But I’m pretty pissed and
	I’ve dug this far down,
	So I figure, in for penny, in for a pound: “
	Life is full of mysteries, yeah
	But there are answers out there
	And they won’t be found
	By people sitting around
	Looking serious
	And saying isn’t life mysterious?
	Let’s sit here and hope
	Let’s call up the ****ing
	Pope Let’s go watch
	Oprah Interview
	Deepak Chopra
	If you’re going to watch telly, you should watch
	Scooby Doo.
	That show was so cool because every time there’s a church with a ghoul
	Or a ghost in a school
	They looked beneath the mask and what was inside?
	The ****ing janitor or the dude who runs the waterslide.
	Because throughout history
	Every mystery
	Ever solved has turned out to be
	Not Magic.
	Does the idea that there might be knowledge
	Frighten you?
	Does the idea that one afternoon
	On Wiki-****ing-pedia might enlighten you
	Frighten you?
	Does the notion that there may not be a supernatural
	So blow your hippy noodle
	That you would rather just stand in the fog
	Of your inability to
	Google? Isn’t this enough?
	Just this world?
	Just this beautiful, complex
	Wonderfully unfathomable, natural world?
	How does it so fail to hold our attention
	That we have to diminish it with the invention
	Of cheap, man-made
	Myths and
	Monsters?
	If you’re so into
	Shakespeare
	Lend me your ear: “
	To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
	To throw perfume on the violet… is just ****ing silly”
	Or something like that.
	Or what about
	Satchmo?!
	I see trees of green,
	Red roses too,
	And fine, if you wish to
	Glorify Krishna and
	Vishnu In a post-colonial, condescending
	Bottled-up and labeled kind of way
	Then whatever, that’s ok.
	But here’s what gives me a hard-on:
	I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant bit of carbon.
	I have one life, and it is short
	And unimportant…
	But thanks to recent scientific advances
	I get to live twice as long as my great great great great uncleses and auntses.
	Twice as long to live this life of mine
	Twice as long to love this wife of mine
	Twice as many years of friends and wine
	Of sharing curries and getting shitty
	With good-looking hippies
	With fairies on their spines
	And butterflies on their titties.
	And if perchance
	I have offended
	Think but this and all is mended:
	We’d as well be 10 minutes back in time,
	For all the chance you’ll change your mind.

	Inner North
	London, top floor flat
	All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
	Rice Paper partitions,
	Modern art and ambition
	The host' s a physician,
	Bright bloke, has his own practice
	His girlfriend' s an actress
	An old mate of ours from home
	And they' re always great fun.
	So to dinner we' ve come.
	The 5th guest is an unknown,
	The hosts have just thrown us together for a favor ' cause this girl' s just arrived from
	Australia
	And she' s moved to
	North London
	And she' s the sister of someone
	Or has some connection.
	As we make introductions
	I' m struck by her beauty
	She' s irrefutably fair
	With dark eyes and dark hair
	But as she sits
	I admit I' m a little bit wary because
	I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
	Tattooed on that popular area
	Just above the derrie re
	And when she says "
	I' m Sagittarien"
	I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
	And is immediately filled with pigeon
	When she says her name is
	Storm. Conversation is initially bright and light hearted
	But it' s not long before
	Storm gets started: "
	You can' t know anything,
	Knowledge is merely opinion"
	She opines, over her
	Cabernet Sauvignon
	Vis a vis
	Some unhippily
	Not a good start"
	I think We' re only on predinner drinks
	And across the room, my wife
	Widens her eyes
	Silently begs me:
	Be Nice! A matrimonial warning
	Not worth ignoring
	So I resist the urge to ask
	Storm Whether knowledge is so looseweave
	Of a morning
	When deciding whether to leave
	Her apartment by the front door
	Or a window on her second floor.
	The food is delicious and
	Storm, Whilst avoiding all meat
	Happily sits and eats
	As the good doctor, slightly pissedly
	Holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history
	When Storm suddenly insists "
	But the human body is a mystery!
	Science just falls in a hole
	When it tries to explain the the nature of the soul."
	My hostess throws me a glance
	She, like my wife, knows there' s a chance
	I' ll be off on one of my rare, but fun, rants
	But I shan' t.
	My lips are sealed.
	I just want to enjoy the meal
	And although
	Storm is starting to get my goat
	I have no intention of rocking the boat,
	Although it' s becoming a bit of a wrestle
	Because like her meteorological namesake
	Storm has no such concerns for our vessel. "
	Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy
	They promote drug dependency
	At the cost of the natural remedies
	That are all our bodies need
	They are immoral and driven by greed.
	Why take drugs
	When herbs can solve it?
	Why use chemicals
	When homeopathic solvents
	Can resolve it?
	It' s time we all return to live
	With natural medical alternatives."
	And try as
	I like, A small crack appears
	In my diplomacydike. "
	By definition",
	I begin " Alternative
	Medicine",
	I continue "
	Has either not been proved to work,
	Or been proved not to work.
	Do you know what they call " alternative medicine"
	That' s been proved to work?
	Medicine." "
	So you don' t believe
	In ANY Natural remedies?" "
	On the contrary,
	Storm. Actually, before we came to tea,
	I took a remedy
	Derived from the bark of a willow tree
	A painkiller that' s virtually sideeffect free
	It' s got a weird name,
	Darling, what was it again?
	Masprin? Basprin?
	Oh, yes. Asprin!
	Which I paid about a buck for
	Down at the local drugstore.
	The debate briefly abates
	As our hosts collects plates but as they return with desserts
	Storm pertly asserts, "
	Shakespeare said it first:
	There are more things in heaven and earth
	Than exist in your philosophy
	Science is just how we' re trained to look at reality,
	It doesn' t explain love or spirituality.
	How does science explain psychics?
	Auras the afterlife the power of prayer?"
	I' m becoming aware
	That I' m staring,
	I' m like a rabbit suddenly trapped
	In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
	Maybe it' s the
	Hamlet she just misquothed
	Or the eighth glass of wine
	I just quaffed
	But my diplomacy dike groans
	And the arsehole held back by its stones
	Can be held back no more: "
	Look , Storm,
	I don' t mean to bore ya
	But there' s no such thing as an aura!
	Reading Auras is like reading minds
	Or tealeaves or starsigns or meridian lines
	These people aren' t plying a skill,
	They are either lying or mentally ill.
	Same goes for people who claim they can hear
	God' s demands
	Or spiritual healers who think they' ve got magic hands.
	By the way,
	Why do we think it' s
	OK For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
	Isn' t that totally ed in the head?
	Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
	And telling her you' re in touch with the other side?
	I think that' s just fundamentally sick
	Do we need to clarify here that there' s no such thing as a psychic?
	What, are we ing 2?
	Do we actually think that
	Horton Heard a
	Who? Do we still believe that
	Santa brings us gifts?
	That Michael
	Jackson didn' t have face lifts?
	Are we still so stunned by circus tricks
	That we think that the dead would
	Wanna talk to pricks
	Like John
	Edwards? Storm to her credit despite my derision
	Keeps firing off cliche s with startling precision
	Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition "
	You' re so sure of your position
	But you' re just closedminded
	I think you' ll find
	That your faith in science and tests
	Is just as blind
	As the faith of any fundamentalist" "
	Wow, that' s a good point, let me think for a bit
	Oh wait, my mistake, that' s absolute bullshit.
	Science adjusts it' s views based on what' s observed
	Faith is the denial of observation so that
	Belief can be preserved.
	If you show me
	That, say, homeopathy works,
	Then I will change my mind
	I' ll spin on a ing dime
	I' ll be as embarrassed as hell,
	But I will run through the streets yelling
	It' s a miracle!
	Take physics and bin it!
	Water has memory!
	And while it' s memory of a long lost drop of onion juice is
	Infinite It somehow forgets all the poo it' s had in it!
	You show me that it works and how it works
	And when I' ve recovered from the shock
	I will take a compass and carve
	Fancy That on the side of my cock."
	Everyone' s just staring now,
	But I' m pretty pissed and
	I' ve dug this far down,
	So I figure, in for penny, in for a pound: "
	Life is full of mysteries, yeah
	But there are answers out there
	And they won' t be found
	By people sitting around
	Looking serious
	And saying isn' t life mysterious?
	Let' s sit here and hope
	Let' s call up the ing
	Pope Let' s go watch
	Oprah Interview
	Deepak Chopra
	If you' re going to watch telly, you should watch
	Scooby Doo.
	That show was so cool because every time there' s a church with a ghoul
	Or a ghost in a school
	They looked beneath the mask and what was inside?
	The ing janitor or the dude who runs the waterslide.
	Because throughout history
	Every mystery
	Ever solved has turned out to be
	Not Magic.
	Does the idea that there might be knowledge
	Frighten you?
	Does the idea that one afternoon
	On Wiki ingpedia might enlighten you
	Frighten you?
	Does the notion that there may not be a supernatural
	So blow your hippy noodle
	That you would rather just stand in the fog
	Of your inability to
	Google? Isn' t this enough?
	Just this world?
	Just this beautiful, complex
	Wonderfully unfathomable, natural world?
	How does it so fail to hold our attention
	That we have to diminish it with the invention
	Of cheap, manmade
	Myths and
	Monsters?
	If you' re so into
	Shakespeare
	Lend me your ear: "
	To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
	To throw perfume on the violet is just ing silly"
	Or something like that.
	Or what about
	Satchmo?!
	I see trees of green,
	Red roses too,
	And fine, if you wish to
	Glorify Krishna and
	Vishnu In a postcolonial, condescending
	Bottledup and labeled kind of way
	Then whatever, that' s ok.
	But here' s what gives me a hardon:
	I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant bit of carbon.
	I have one life, and it is short
	And unimportant
	But thanks to recent scientific advances
	I get to live twice as long as my great great great great uncleses and auntses.
	Twice as long to live this life of mine
	Twice as long to love this wife of mine
	Twice as many years of friends and wine
	Of sharing curries and getting shitty
	With goodlooking hippies
	With fairies on their spines
	And butterflies on their titties.
	And if perchance
	I have offended
	Think but this and all is mended:
	We' d as well be 10 minutes back in time,
	For all the chance you' ll change your mind.

	Inner North
	London, top floor flat
	All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
	Rice Paper partitions,
	Modern art and ambition
	The host' s a physician,
	Bright bloke, has his own practice
	His girlfriend' s an actress
	An old mate of ours from home
	And they' re always great fun.
	So to dinner we' ve come.
	The 5th guest is an unknown,
	The hosts have just thrown us together for a favor ' cause this girl' s just arrived from
	Australia
	And she' s moved to
	North London
	And she' s the sister of someone
	Or has some connection.
	As we make introductions
	I' m struck by her beauty
	She' s irrefutably fair
	With dark eyes and dark hair
	But as she sits
	I admit I' m a little bit wary because
	I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
	Tattooed on that popular area
	Just above the derriè re
	And when she says "
	I' m Sagittarien"
	I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
	And is immediately filled with pigeon
	When she says her name is
	Storm. Conversation is initially bright and light hearted
	But it' s not long before
	Storm gets started: "
	You can' t know anything,
	Knowledge is merely opinion"
	She opines, over her
	Cabernet Sauvignon
	Vis a vis
	Some unhippily
	Not a good start"
	I think We' re only on predinner drinks
	And across the room, my wife
	Widens her eyes
	Silently begs me:
	Be Nice! A matrimonial warning
	Not worth ignoring
	So I resist the urge to ask
	Storm Whether knowledge is so looseweave
	Of a morning
	When deciding whether to leave
	Her apartment by the front door
	Or a window on her second floor.
	The food is delicious and
	Storm, Whilst avoiding all meat
	Happily sits and eats
	As the good doctor, slightly pissedly
	Holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history
	When Storm suddenly insists "
	But the human body is a mystery!
	Science just falls in a hole
	When it tries to explain the the nature of the soul."
	My hostess throws me a glance
	She, like my wife, knows there' s a chance
	I' ll be off on one of my rare, but fun, rants
	But I shan' t.
	My lips are sealed.
	I just want to enjoy the meal
	And although
	Storm is starting to get my goat
	I have no intention of rocking the boat,
	Although it' s becoming a bit of a wrestle
	Because like her meteorological namesake
	Storm has no such concerns for our vessel. "
	Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy
	They promote drug dependency
	At the cost of the natural remedies
	That are all our bodies need
	They are immoral and driven by greed.
	Why take drugs
	When herbs can solve it?
	Why use chemicals
	When homeopathic solvents
	Can resolve it?
	It' s time we all return to live
	With natural medical alternatives."
	And try as
	I like, A small crack appears
	In my diplomacydike. "
	By definition",
	I begin " Alternative
	Medicine",
	I continue "
	Has either not been proved to work,
	Or been proved not to work.
	Do you know what they call " alternative medicine"
	That' s been proved to work?
	Medicine." "
	So you don' t believe
	In ANY Natural remedies?" "
	On the contrary,
	Storm. Actually, before we came to tea,
	I took a remedy
	Derived from the bark of a willow tree
	A painkiller that' s virtually sideeffect free
	It' s got a weird name,
	Darling, what was it again?
	Masprin? Basprin?
	Oh, yes. Asprin!
	Which I paid about a buck for
	Down at the local drugstore.
	The debate briefly abates
	As our hosts collects plates but as they return with desserts
	Storm pertly asserts, "
	Shakespeare said it first:
	There are more things in heaven and earth
	Than exist in your philosophy
	Science is just how we' re trained to look at reality,
	It doesn' t explain love or spirituality.
	How does science explain psychics?
	Auras the afterlife the power of prayer?"
	I' m becoming aware
	That I' m staring,
	I' m like a rabbit suddenly trapped
	In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
	Maybe it' s the
	Hamlet she just misquothed
	Or the eighth glass of wine
	I just quaffed
	But my diplomacy dike groans
	And the arsehole held back by its stones
	Can be held back no more: "
	Look , Storm,
	I don' t mean to bore ya
	But there' s no such thing as an aura!
	Reading Auras is like reading minds
	Or tealeaves or starsigns or meridian lines
	These people aren' t plying a skill,
	They are either lying or mentally ill.
	Same goes for people who claim they can hear
	God' s demands
	Or spiritual healers who think they' ve got magic hands.
	By the way,
	Why do we think it' s
	OK For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
	Isn' t that totally ed in the head?
	Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
	And telling her you' re in touch with the other side?
	I think that' s just fundamentally sick
	Do we need to clarify here that there' s no such thing as a psychic?
	What, are we ing 2?
	Do we actually think that
	Horton Heard a
	Who? Do we still believe that
	Santa brings us gifts?
	That Michael
	Jackson didn' t have face lifts?
	Are we still so stunned by circus tricks
	That we think that the dead would
	Wanna talk to pricks
	Like John
	Edwards? Storm to her credit despite my derision
	Keeps firing off cliché s with startling precision
	Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition "
	You' re so sure of your position
	But you' re just closedminded
	I think you' ll find
	That your faith in science and tests
	Is just as blind
	As the faith of any fundamentalist" "
	Wow, that' s a good point, let me think for a bit
	Oh wait, my mistake, that' s absolute bullshit.
	Science adjusts it' s views based on what' s observed
	Faith is the denial of observation so that
	Belief can be preserved.
	If you show me
	That, say, homeopathy works,
	Then I will change my mind
	I' ll spin on a ing dime
	I' ll be as embarrassed as hell,
	But I will run through the streets yelling
	It' s a miracle!
	Take physics and bin it!
	Water has memory!
	And while it' s memory of a long lost drop of onion juice is
	Infinite It somehow forgets all the poo it' s had in it!
	You show me that it works and how it works
	And when I' ve recovered from the shock
	I will take a compass and carve
	Fancy That on the side of my cock."
	Everyone' s just staring now,
	But I' m pretty pissed and
	I' ve dug this far down,
	So I figure, in for penny, in for a pound: "
	Life is full of mysteries, yeah
	But there are answers out there
	And they won' t be found
	By people sitting around
	Looking serious
	And saying isn' t life mysterious?
	Let' s sit here and hope
	Let' s call up the ing
	Pope Let' s go watch
	Oprah Interview
	Deepak Chopra
	If you' re going to watch telly, you should watch
	Scooby Doo.
	That show was so cool because every time there' s a church with a ghoul
	Or a ghost in a school
	They looked beneath the mask and what was inside?
	The ing janitor or the dude who runs the waterslide.
	Because throughout history
	Every mystery
	Ever solved has turned out to be
	Not Magic.
	Does the idea that there might be knowledge
	Frighten you?
	Does the idea that one afternoon
	On Wiki ingpedia might enlighten you
	Frighten you?
	Does the notion that there may not be a supernatural
	So blow your hippy noodle
	That you would rather just stand in the fog
	Of your inability to
	Google? Isn' t this enough?
	Just this world?
	Just this beautiful, complex
	Wonderfully unfathomable, natural world?
	How does it so fail to hold our attention
	That we have to diminish it with the invention
	Of cheap, manmade
	Myths and
	Monsters?
	If you' re so into
	Shakespeare
	Lend me your ear: "
	To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
	To throw perfume on the violet is just ing silly"
	Or something like that.
	Or what about
	Satchmo?!
	I see trees of green,
	Red roses too,
	And fine, if you wish to
	Glorify Krishna and
	Vishnu In a postcolonial, condescending
	Bottledup and labeled kind of way
	Then whatever, that' s ok.
	But here' s what gives me a hardon:
	I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant bit of carbon.
	I have one life, and it is short
	And unimportant
	But thanks to recent scientific advances
	I get to live twice as long as my great great great great uncleses and auntses.
	Twice as long to live this life of mine
	Twice as long to love this wife of mine
	Twice as many years of friends and wine
	Of sharing curries and getting shitty
	With goodlooking hippies
	With fairies on their spines
	And butterflies on their titties.
	And if perchance
	I have offended
	Think but this and all is mended:
	We' d as well be 10 minutes back in time,
	For all the chance you' ll change your mind.

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