[Intro] (Gentle acoustic guitar strums with a light hiss) Yeah. One-two. Just when you thought it was safe to walk down the street. Gravity’s a cruel mistress, innit? (Vinyl scratch) [Verse 1] I’m a lyrical artisan, dodging the partisan / Targeting arteries, sparking a marvel in / Every department, but pardon my darkening / Spirit, I’m harboring pain in the garden / Of earthly delights where the physics is harsh / A stray shuttlecock makes a hit in the marsh / Of my trousers, a tactical strike on the crown jewels / Now I’m in fetal position, I’m down, fools / The twin spheres of influence, catching a pummelling / Subtle and troubling, blood is just bubbling / Under the surface of bruised alabaster / A wayward frisbee—a festive disaster / I’m talking the family heirlooms, the pearls / Sent for a spin in the tilt-a-whirl / My reproductive capacity’s technically capped / By a toddler’s tricycle, expertly mapped. [Chorus] Oh, it’s a symphony of agony, a lush little tune / For the two little planets that were taken too soon / (Fragile, so fragile) From the marble bag menace to the low-flying birds / It’s a pain that transcends all my polysyllabic words / (Watch your step now) [Verse 2] Check the vocabulary, I’m an anomaly / Statistically prone to a groin-based dichotomy / Walking the tightrope, a slip and a thud / Now the plums are just soaking in irony and mud / The beans and the frankfurter, catching a volley / From a stray shopping trolley, it’s sheer melancholy / The brass bells are ringing, a carillon of grief / A misplaced umbrella, no moment of relief / I call ‘em the clackers, the boulders, the twins / They’ve seen more abuse than a bin full of sins / An accidental knee in the middle of a hug / Has me gasping for air on the living room rug / It’s the grapes of my wrath being crushed for the wine / A structural failure of the masculine design / Call the emergency services, tell ‘em the news / The jewels in the vault have been battered and bruised. [Bridge] (Instrumentation strips back to just a lonely guitar) One is for sorrow. Two is for... well, two is also for sorrow today. (Whispered backing vocals: The twins are retreating) It’s a tactical withdrawal. (Heavy sigh) [Chorus] Oh, it’s a symphony of agony, a lush little tune / For the two little planets that were taken too soon / (Fragile, so fragile) From the marble bag menace to the low-flying birds / It’s a pain that transcends all my polysyllabic words / (Watch your step now) [Outro] Keep the ice pack close. And the dignity far away. (Acoustic guitar fades out with one final, discordant pluck) Ninety-nine problems and they’re all... right there. (Silence)
