Lucy (Ponte/Chávarri) 2005

Mr. Wiggin (John Cleese): Yes, well, that's the sort of blinkered,
philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative
garbage. (*)


Lucy is dying. Her malady is known;
She's been for decades neglected...
Where have you gone?

Lucy is crying for marmalade skies;
Perhaps you were just too busy to look in her eyes.

There's no such thing as passive listening,
There's no such thing as innate taste, nay.
We are all glad to blame someone else in the game
While our lady is withering away.

Do you think that you know what you like?
I should think that you like what you know -- yeah,
All the shit we produce, you eat up, all seduced by cathode sex.

Lucy is waiting. There may be still time;
If you ever felt something for her demand the sublime.

Every time you are offered garbage
You don't have to rush into the can, my friend;
It's a matter of choice, and we should all rejoice
When you shove it up their fat corporate ass.

Nobody tells you what, nobody tells you when;
You should be able to make up your own mind.
Are you going to sit or are you going to dive into the sea?


(*) Excerpt from The Architects' Sketch, Monty Python Flying Circus (1970).