If I find out you don’t want me I’ll be vicious
At least she’s not riddled with infection, as Cyprus boasted:
Just cross the line
You have no time
My persistence is outrageous
You’ll be mine cause I’m contagious
Thanks for the warning. Austria went for the honest approach as well:
Do you know the girl who came from Cuba
She loves our music and our songs
She came and she saw
Austrians dance quite slow
Sorry to hear it. And whoever Macedonia was singing about must have been sorry to hear this:
Make my day
Take it all baby
It’s enough to make Hungary suicidal:
Spin, world! Sweep me into the light,
Or I shall not live tomorrow!
That speaks of pain. Which rhymes with rain, and again. Which, as Bulgaria has learned, also rhymes with Lorraine:
You’ve got to know that harder the rain, sweeter the pain
I can still remember, Lorraine, in the rain.
Calling you, again and again, I’ll wait for your name,
I can still remember Lorraine in the rain.
“Name” doesn’t quite fit, does it? Sort of like the sun and the moon, as Portugal will explain:
At times, heaven eludes me
It goes somewhere far away
Where the sun does not fit in
And the moon just will not stay
Stupid non-static moon. Romania also craves the halting of moving objects:
Looking back I realised
We are learning from mistakes
I can see it in your eyes
I can feel your heart with brakes
Let’s hope Fred the limo driver’s brakes are functional, otherwise Sweden is in trouble:
I’m leaving with a million dollar smile
The hotel manager can check my file
Fred the Limo-driver’s asking polite
– Leaving Las Vegas tonight?
No, but I’ll be leaving Russia, lest infant Erica shoots me:
Hello sweet America, where did our dream disappear?
Look at little Erica, all she learns today is the fear
You deny the truth, you’re just having fun
‘Til your child will shoot your gun
You don’t often come across the word “ointment” in modern pop songs. Spain remedies this, and throws in a “marvellous owl” for good measure:
There is neither antidote, ointment nor remedies of old
That take this obsession out of my mind; nor marvellous owl; nor muse’s wings
Stewed with melons and cherries, and I don’t know what to do. I’ll start to believe that.
You do that, Spain. The Ukraine (it rhymes with “Spain”, “pain”, “rain”, “again”, and “Lorraine”) took a political view:
WE WON’T STAND THIS—NO! REVOLUTION IS ON!
‘CAUSE LIES BE THE WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION!
ALL TOGETHER WE’RE ONE! ALL TOGETHER WE’RE STRONG!
GOD BE MY WITNESS WE’VE WAITED TOO LONG!
Moldova is still waiting for lyrics that scan:
People in the place, feel your body shakes
Boonika beats da drum-a-tama tapping out the breaks
Pop you up with dat beat
Get rid of rotten meat
You dig with your soul
Deep inside that rock ’n’ roll
She’s a drum machine, you know what I mean
She wanna play jumparale to make you spin,
Drain a bottle of wine, no need to smoke the leaves
By the end of that show you’ll blow yourself to bits
If they watched this show, who could blame them?