“A brake” (otherwise known as shameless Gorillaz slash poem thing because I’m weird)
Where’s my vodka?
Third kitchen cupboard from the right,
Behind the peanut butter jar,
The one with a huge wasp mummified inside.
Oh, 2D, you’re just in time.
What’s with that face, boy? Where’s your smile?
Never mind, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.
I was about to commit a wonderful crime.
I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you in on it.
You’re my partner now, go on, take a seat.
We will kill this bottle of vodka, you and me.
Take the loot then dispose of the body!
Must be careful though, so we won’t get caught!
“Murdoc, we need to talk.”
Now didn’t I just specifically told you to lighten up or what?
You never listen to what I say, now do you, you twat?
And what ever happened to you calling me “Mudzie”?
I know I complained about you giving me diabetes.
But still, a moderate amount of sugar never hurts anybody.
Why now, are you using sweets supplement, 2D?
“I can’t keep doing this with you.”
Can’t? What? I hope you’re not talking about making music.
This band is everything people could ever dream of, don’t be so thick.
It’s fine, if you don’t want to binge with me for days in a roll.
It’ll save us the much needed money, you know.
And I’ll finally be able to get your car a new brake since the old one’s a bust.
Wouldn’t you like that? Oh, clever boy, but why the rush?
We don’t need to cut down on our drinks, we can just wait until Christmas.
Santa will give you a brake for some vodka-flavored biscuits.
Why not milk and cookies, you may ask,
Because your Santa is green, and he doesn’t like being fat.
“Murdoc, let’s face the fact….
I’ve been thinking a lot and….”
There it is, the synthesized sweetness again.
Seriously if I’m willing to pour you MY precious vodka,
The least you can do is give me some sugar.
I never liked that sugar of yours, but it’s common courtesy!
Give and receive, don’t forget to say please.
Besides what do you have other than sugar and that pretty face?
Ah, I get it, not until you get that brake.
“Since when do you think? And you haven’t answered my last question”
And since when do we have serious conversations?
“This relationship is going nowhere.”
Relationship? There are many kinds of those.
So we aren’t drinking buddies anymore, see if I care.
Just because you decided you want that brake…
Very well then, but we are still band mates,
A pair of lunatics, thrown together by fate.
And for the love of peace,
Where is my sugar?
“Please, I need you to be sober!”
“Here me out!”
Calm yourself, boy, no need to shout.
I’m just distracted by the movement of your painfully ugly mouth.
So would you mind repeating the last six words aloud?
“I am, I just don’t know what this is all about.”
“You know very well what I’m getting at…”
Yes, a brake. No need to get mad.
“A break! For peace’s sake! A break up!”
There you go again, making storms in teacups.
All because of a brake, I can’t believe my luck.
“Well don’t just bloody stare at me like that, Mudz.”
Close, you’re close kid, repeat after me,
M-U-D-Z-I-E. See? It’s really easy!
“Good heavens! You’re impossible to read!
Even now I doubt you’re not high on weed!”
Well excuse you, I’m perfectly sober.
Want my response? Then give me some sugar.
“This is exactly why I can’t…..
I’m the only one who’s trying!
The only one who gives a damn!”
For the record, captain smarty pants,
I took a look at your car yesterday, but I didn’t rant.
Oh, I see why you’re being so hard.
Murdoc, you’re an engineering genius, you can fix anything if you want.
I may be good, but I can’t do anything without a suitable new part.
Just like I would have died if it hadn’t been for your heart.
I stole it, and that’s exactly how I’m gonna get that brake.
I was going to grab one from that shop down the street when it gets late.
My only problem though, is the sales clerk.
That is one meticulous and careful jerk.
“I’m still waiting for a reaction, or something at all…
It bloody feels like I’m talking to a wall.”
Would you mind shutting up for a minute so I can properly think,
How to get you your brake, satisfy your mechanical kink.
Sure as hell, I’m not gonna pay.
Be grateful and hush while I find a way.
“Yeah, nothing, that’s what I thought.
We’re done here, Murdoc, what a waste of effort.”
Sit the fuck down, relax, have a salad.
Be patient, you brat, as we don’t have enough cash.
Give me a day or two, I’ll get you the brake.
Steal the damn thing, do whatever it takes.
“I love you a lot, Murdoc.
But you don’t feel the same!
I’m nothing to you.
This is just your game!”
I’m sorry, I must have dosed off..
I only got the first six words,
Others, I forgot.
“You’re a lost cause…
I won’t be fighting for you anymore!”
And with that something stirred in my core.
Memories, call it that if you will.
Our last night in Jamaica. On this odd looking little hill.
We were lying there, shirtless, and wasted.
Then you fed me something I’ve never tasted.
Sugar, that sugar of yours,
Sugar, your sugar for the first time.
You’re a liar, you know, just like I am.
Cos you promised me we would be partners in crime,
Till hell freezes over and one of us dies.
“Ok then, seems you have made up your mind.”
From now on, my dear, you won’t have to try.
Yes, you sodding git.
“What more can I say?”
Seems to me you just want that brake.
No sugar for me. If that’s how you wanna play,
You’re not getting any of my vodka today.
“Take me or leave me.”
And call me Mudzie.
“Let’s just go back to being best mates.”
I lost you to that damn brake.
“Why the hell not, that’s just dandy.”
Liars, both of us.
Or is it just me?
“I can’t say this is what we want, but it’s what we need.
We’re killing each other, you and I know it.”
The sugar never came. Odds are it never will.
Oh goodie, my health risks just got lowered!
A few more years to live and to feel.
Not what I want either, but according to you, what I need,
And for once in my life, I’m taking your word for it.
“Thank you, Murdoc.”
I appreciate the sweet talk. But it won’t be enough.
You owe me a lot more, don’t you, sweet stuff?
For saving your life, two times over.
For Gorillaz and endless painkillers.
For my….ehem…..friendship and Smirnoff.
For not killing you every time you piss me off.
For shooting the zombies that would be the death of you.
For all the other little things that you thought I didn’t do.
For sharing my luxurious alcohol and my humble bed.
For feeling something other than the urge to hit you across the head.
For going back against everything that is me and all I’ll ever be.
For inexplicably loving you, 2D.
There, I said it. And in such a poetic manner.
Boy if only you could read my mind like you can with your letters.
Thank god you can’t and never will, though.
You’d find out that I’m actually thanking god, and that you have my soul.
“By the way, Murdoc,”
No more sugar, what a shock!
“I had my brake fixed this morning,
You don’t have to steal anything.”
Well well well what a pleasant surprise…
Maybe you can somehow read my mind.
Yet you have failed to see through my lies.
Because you don’t know how I’m dying inside.
And with that you left.
Out of the kitchen, no regrets.
Probably testing out your fixed car.
With brand new brakes, I bet you’d go far.
I hope you crash into a lamppost!
I hope you blow your tires along the coast!
We might have had something special together.
But you’re still the one I hate the most.
So run along, I wish you the worst,
While I file these papers like a civilized desk clerk.
Yes, 2D, paperwork.
I’ve had my subscription to club Stu expired,
Let’s see what I could take with me now that I’m finally retired.
If I had a penny for every I-love-you, I would have 66, not bad.
If I had a penny for every sober I-love-you, I would have just over 3 a tad.
If I had a penny for every time I made you smile, I’d have quite plenty.
If I had a penny for every time I made you cry, I’d have too many.
If I had a penny for every time I apologized to your face, I’d have nothing at all.
If I had a penny for every time I apologized in my head, I’d have everything, make a killing in total.
But apparently, not enough to keep you, Stu.
Because you have cancelled your subscription at club Niccals, too.
No more free access to the Niccals suite or the Niccals limo,
No more I-will-at-least-try-to-refrain-myself-from-hurting-you as far as I know,
No more I-will-not-call-you-names-when-we-are-alone, that too, has got to go.
No more Murdoc Niccals for you!
You will get your refunds though, and they include:
One figurative heart on a figurative tray,
The literal heart is non refundable I’m afraid.
And take back your six kisses a day,
Your blood and your tears, your hugs and my beers.
Our one hundred and twenty three fucks a year.
That night in Jamaica.
The new brake for your car.