This is the true story of the weeds:
the origin of the species
A story of cultivation, exploitation, civilisation
Found flowering on wasteland unnoticed, unofficial, accidental
A cutting was taken
but weeds do not thrive in 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 a 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 Nurishment
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 - zzzzzz
Crop rotation. Genetic modification. The creation of expectation. Ultimate frustration.
This is the story of the weeds:
the origin of the species
Because a lot of ideas seemed to come out in Weeds, I wanted to expand on it. My favourite line in the song is "Come on, do your funny little dance." You create your own world in a band and, in a way, when it becomes popular it gets taken away from you. The things that you did naturally somehow make you feel like a performing monkey: "Go on, do that pointing thing." For a while I toyed with the idea of standing still onstage because it was expected of me. But then I thought to myself: "I invented that stupid dance. No-one forced me to do it. Don't worry about whether it's a cliche." So I'm still doing my funny little dance.