Pulp | Lyrics | Weeds II (The Origin of the Species)

This is the true story of the weeds, the origin of the species
A story of cultivation, exploitation, civilization
Found flowering on wasteland unnoticed, unofficial, accidental
A cutting was taken but weeds do not thrive under hothouse

Conditions and wilt when in competition with more exotic strains
A charming naivety, very short flowering season
No sooner has the first blooming begun than decay sets in
Bring your camera, take photo of life on the margins

Offer money in exchange for sex and then get a taxi home
The story has always been the same
A source of wonder due to their ability to thrive on poor quality soil
Offering very little nourishment, drinking 'Nourishment'

But weeds must be kept under strict control
Or they will destroy everything in their path
Growing wild, then harvested in their prime
And passed around at dinner parties, care for some weed?

So natural, so wild, so unrefined
And someone's gonna make a fortune one day
If only they can market this stuff right
Come on, do your dance
Come on, do your funny little dance

Germination, plantation, exploitation, civilization
A sensational buzz, zzz
Crop rotation. genetic modification
The creation of expectation, ultimate frustration
This is the story of the weeds, the origin of the species