If I didn't have you to hold me tight
If I didn't have you to lie with at night
If I didn't have you to share my sighs
And to kiss me and dry my tears when I cry
Well I really think that I would...
Have somebody else
If I didn't have you, someone else would do
Your love is one in a million
You couldn't buy it at any price
But of the 9.999 hundred thousand other loves
Statistically, some of them would be equally nice
Or maybe not as nice but, say, smarter than you
Or dumber but better at sport or tracing
I'm just saying
Probably
If I didn't have you someone else would do
If I were a rich man
Diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-ee
I guess I would be with a surgeon or a model
Or a rellie of the Royals or a Kennedy
Or a nymphomonical exhibitionist heiress to a large chain of hotels
If I were a rich man, maybe I would fiddle
Fiddle-diddle-diddle with the rich man girls
I'm not saying that I'd not love you if I was wealthy or handsome
But realistically there's lots of fish in the sea
And if I had a different rod I would concievably land some
Even though I am fiscally consistantly pitiable
And considerably less Brad Pitt than Brad Pitiful
Am I really so poor and ugly that you reckon only you could possibly love me?
And I
Probably
If I didn't have you, someone else would do
And look, I'm not undervaluing what we've got when I say
That given the role chaos inevitably plays in the inherently flawed notion of "fate"
It's obtuse to deduce that I've found my soulmate at the age of seventeen
It's just mathematically unlikely that at a university in Perth
I happened to stumble on the one girl on Earth specifically designed for me
And if I may conjecture a further objection, love is nothing to do with destined perfection
The connection is strengthened, the affection simply grows over time
Like a flower
Or a mushroom
Or a guinea pig
Or a vine
Or a sponge
Or bigotry
... or a banana
And love is made more powerful by the ongoing drama of shared experience
And the synergy of a kind of symbiotic empathy or... something
So I trust it would go without saying
That I would feel really very sad
If tomorrow you were to fall off something high
Or catch something bad
But I'm just saying
I don't think you're special
I-I mean, I think your special
But you fall within a bell curve
I mean, I'm just saying I
Probably
I think you are unique and beautiful
You make me happy just by being around
But objectively, you would have to agree that baby when I found you
Options were relatively thin on the ground
You're lovely but there must be girls as lovely as you
And maybe more open to spanking or table tennis
I'm just saying
Probably
I mean I reckon it's pretty likely that if, for example
My first girlfriend, Jackie, hadn't dumped me
After I kissed Winston's ex-girlfriend Neah at Steph's party back in 1993
And our variables would probably have been altered by the absence of that event
To have meant the advent of a tangential narrative in which we don't meet
Which is to say there exists a theoretical hypothetical parallel life
Where what is is not as it is and I am not your husband and you are not my wife
And I am a stuntman living in LA
Married to a small, blonde Portuguese skier
Who, when she's not training
Does abstract painting
Practices yoga
And brews her own beer
And really like making home movies
And suffers neck down alopecia
But with all my heart and all my mind, I know one thing is true
I have just one life and just one love and, my love, that love is you
And if it wasn't for you, darling you
Probably
If I didn't have you someone else would surely do
Fineste forlaget <3 |
ufattelig (for en mann) at tim minchin har slik apell; kall meg kynisk men det minner om noe romantisk/nostalgisk vrøvl pakket inn i filosofiske betraktninger og pseudovitenskaplig begrepsbruk (sannsynlighetsbetraktninger og referanser til statistiske begreper), jeg håper det er det siste som gjør utslaget, og ikke det faktum at han har langt hår, kan synge og være morsom samtidig, her har han nemlig sterk konkurranse 🙂
Må man velge? Jeg hadde ikke hørt denne før, takk for teksten. 🙂
Øyvind, det kalles humor. Er ikke så enkelt alltid.
Jeg humret godt og spilte av spillelista. Han minner litt om Tom Lehrer, en av mutterns favoritter. Man bør kanskje befinne seg utenfor normalfordelingskurven for å forstå humoren. Og gjør man det, bør man kanskje også finne kjærligheten utenfor.