Scott Walker kicks ass!
And if one day I should become, A singer with a Spanish bum,
Who sings for women of great virtue
I’d sing to them with a guitar, I borrowed from a coffee bar,
Well, what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you
My name would be Antonio, And all my bridges I would burn, And when I gave them some they’d know,
I’d expect something in return
I’d have to get drunk every night, And talk about virility, With some old grandmother,
That might be decked out like a Christmas tree
And though pink elephants I’d see, Though I’d be drunk as I could be, Still I would sing my song to me,
About the time they called me “Jacky”
If I could be for only an hour
If I could be for an hour every day
If I could be for just one little hour
Cute Cute in a stupid ass way
And if I joined the social whirl, Became procurer of young girls,
Then i would have my own bordellos
My record would be number one, And I’d sell records by the ton,
All sung by many other fellows
My name would then be handsome Jack, And I’d sell boats of opium, Whiskey that came from Twickenham
Authentic queers, And phony virgins
If I had banks on every finger, A finger in every country, And every country ruled by me,
I’d still know where I’d want to be
Locked up inside my opium den, Surrounded by some china men, I’d sing the song that I sang then,
About the time they called me “Jacky”
If I could be for only an hour
If I could be for an hour every day
If I could be for just one little hour
Cute Cute in a stupid ass way
Now, tell me, wouldn’t it be nice, That if one day in paradise,
I’d sing for all the ladies up there,
And they would sing along with me, And we be so happy there to be,
Cos’ down below is really nowhere
My name would then be Juniper, And then I would become all knowing, Then I would know where I was going,
My beard so very long and flowing
If I became deaf, dumb and blind, Because I pitied all mankind, And broke my heart to make things right
I know that every single night
When my angelic work was through, The angels and the Devil too, Would sing my childhood song to me
About the time they called me “Jacky”
If I could be for only an hour
If I could be for an hour every day
If I could be for just one little hour
Cute Cute in a stupid ass way
I guess Engelbert Humperdink meets Jack Kerouac and they somehow have a love child. They name him Scott Walker and then hide him away from the American Music scene. …until now!