(Verse 1 – müde, fast beiläufig gesprochen, der Kontrabass tappt im Regen) They built a dog park in the shiny part of town A little green square for the well-bred frown Poodles prance with trust-fund grace I’m eating discarded hope from a bio-waste case The news wagged its tail: “A triumph for all!” I’d call it a punchline, but I’m pinned to the wall (Pre-Chorus – Stimme kippt in ein bitteres Grinsen) So go on, tell me I’m ungrateful, a fleabag clown But I’ve been licking the hand that kicks me down It’s hilarious, really, if you’re not the one bleeding I’d laugh along, but my ribs stopped believing (Chorus – Weinendes Saxofon, plötzlich zähnefletschender Ausbruch) I’m Bill the stray, your favourite four-legged satire I watch your world and it’s all on fire You toss a coin, you feel so inspired I’d thank you, but my mouth’s full of barbed wire “Who rescued who?” – that’s comedy gold I’m breaking the punchline, I’m out of the mould Ain’t howling for laughs, I’m howling to go This joke ain’t funny no more, you know? (Verse 2 – noch trockener, fast gesprochen, die Trompete schweigt an den offenen Stellen) Saw a priest bless a glass tower today Same hour they swept a veteran’s tent away Your morality’s a purebred, groomed and priced You neuter compassion, then call it Christ The irony’s thicker than a fire hydrant’s piss But I’m just the stray – you won’t notice this (Pre-Chorus) Go on, call me a cynic, a dog-eared joke While you Instagram your rescue in an artful stroke It’s a stand-up tragedy, and I’m the heckler in the back The set’s so long I lost my pack (Chorus) I’m Bill the stray, your favourite four-legged satire I watch your world and it’s all on fire You toss a bone, you feel so inspired I’d wag my tail, but it’s getting tired “Who rescued who?” – that’s comedy gold I’m breaking the punchline, I’m out of the mould Ain’t howling for laughs, I’m howling to go This joke ain’t funny no more, you know? (Bridge – flüsternd, Bass droht mit Pausen, Trompete schluchzt einmal kurz) They say “Who’s a good boy?” – I’ll tell you who: Not the ones who threw rocks when I was new Your kindness is a kickstarter for your soul I’m a hashtag with a heartbeat, out of control (geflüstert) The funniest part? You think you’re free But you’re more collared than I’ll ever be (Instrumental – entfesselte Jazz-Noir-Hölle: Gitarre knurrt, Saxofon schreit in den Regen, Schlagzeug bricht kurz aus, fällt dann zurück in gedämpfte Besen) (Outro – langsam, wie ein letzter Atemzug, Stimme wird zum gesprochenen Bellen) So here’s your satire, served raw and red A stray’s last sermon from a busted head I’m leaving this stage – no bow, no bone Find someone else to laugh at when I’m gone (gesprochen, mit einem bitteren, kurzen Lachen) …gone. (Schritte im Regen, das Saxofon haucht aus, Stille.)
