Homeless Critic Song

Beats from Tricky's Pumpkin

I've been...
throwing down critiques for the past ten Fringes
I'm usually quite nice, not given to whinges.
But I am asking you a questioning
And are you gonna reply?
When a critic's got no roof,
Are you gonna ask why?

The posts are getting read
and opinion being passed
But I don't know where I'm staying
From first night to the last.
The reason I've been priced out 
Is that you come here
In this pretty Scottish City
At this time of year.

Now I thinking to myself - 
This goes out to the PRs,
When you ask me for a favour
Who do you think you are?
If you see me on the corner
And I'm begging for some change
Will you whisper in my ear
What reviews can I arrange?

I tell myself I know the score,
But what do you do for an encore?

Just because I have a laugh
And try to make things fun
Does it ever cross your mind that I
Might just be on the run
From the high class cost of living 
And the need to be in town
That the help that you're not giving
Is the lack that takes me down?

I tell myself I know the score,
But what do you do for an encore?

Why not appeal to my vanity?
Why not question my sanity?
You carp onn that the critics' always hating?
What's compassion worth in five star rating?
Imma gonna break it down for you
It's time that I get clear
I wouldn't be homeless if
You didn't want me here.
I'm in the Burgh to cover your show
But if I haven't got a bed, Imma gonna f-ing go

Back to Glasgow, which is showing you up...

I tell myself I know the score,
But what do you do for an encore?

Ghost Derrida, bring some truth...

Truth? Yeah, what a dated idea.
Boy, you're sleeping on the Meadows this year.
I like to deconstruct, even when I'm decomposing.
And here's the lyrical attack on what you're posing.

When you read the word homeless,
Do the letters disappear?
Are they erased by the context,
Are you merely deaf to hear
That this man is in a state
He really would star rate
Getting a couch to sleep on
Or going on a date

Where you buy him a coffee?
Is it so hard to see 
When he looks you in the eyes and asks
Please Help Me.
I tell myself I know the score,
But what do you do for an encore?
Ask a homeless man for a cigarette?
Waste a thousand pounds on an outside bet?
When you see me on George Square
And I'm asking for change
Will you whisper in my ear 
And ask what previews I'll arrange?