| Lyrics |
This is the true story of the weeds: the origin of the species.
A story of cultivation, exploitation, civilization.
Found flowering on wasteland unnoticed, unofficial, accidental.
A cutting was taken but weeds do not thrive under hothouse conditions & wilt when in competition with more exotic strains.
A charming naivety, very short flowering season;
no sooner has the first blooming begun than decay sets in.
Bring your camera, take photo of life on the margins.
Offer money in exchange for sex & then get a taxi home.
The story has always been the same
A source of wonder due to their ability to thrive on poor quality soil offering very little nourishment
Drinking '
Nurishment'.
But weeds must be kept under strict control or they will destroy everything in their path.
Growing wild, then harvested in their prime & passed around at dinner parties.
Care for some weed?
So natural, so wild, so unrefined & someone's gonna make a fortune one day
If only they can market this stuff right.
Come on: do your dance.
Come on, do your funny little dance.
Germination. Plantation. Exploitation. Civilization.
A sensational buzz - zzzzzz.
Crop rotation. Genetic modification. The creation of expectation. Ultimate frustration.
This is the story of the weeds: the origin of the species.
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