(I'd like to limit this to songs that have achieved even some modest success and playing. While I'm sure your band's drunken tapes back from when you first go together are horrible, they never achieved success.)
But why do I bother? Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING that you can ever suggest is even mildly comparable to this horrificness. "Seasons In The Sun"? "Muskrat Love"? Pikers! Pikers! You will curse my name in the dark for reminding you of this. You will. You surely will. There's no doubt this is the worst. song. ever. to achieve commercial success. Why, I have scant idea.
But anyways.
The name of the song.
Ready?
You can still stop reading. Don't blame yourself.
Jordy - Dur Dur D'être Un bébé.
What? Has your mind gracefully blocked this? Let me gently remind you.
Early 90s.
Little child, about 5 years old.
Dance beat.
Lyrics that go something like "Oeoeoeoei bääbä, iio iai bobebi" I guess they're French, although they could be some kind of Lovecraftian language of terror.
Coming back? Eh? It's all coming back? Isn't it? Huh? Uh? It is, isn't it?
And when you stop trying to scrub your brain clean with a rake, don't say I didn't warn you.
Nothing. NOTHING. NOTHING you offer can compare to that horrible little kid going "Oeoeoeoeoei bääbä, iio iai bobebi."
But why do I bother? Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING that you can ever suggest is even mildly comparable to this horrificness. "Seasons In The Sun"? "Muskrat Love"? Pikers! Pikers! You will curse my name in the dark for reminding you of this. You will. You surely will. There's no doubt this is the worst. song. ever. to achieve commercial success. Why, I have scant idea.
But anyways.
The name of the song.
Ready?
You can still stop reading. Don't blame yourself.
Jordy - Dur Dur D'être Un bébé.
What? Has your mind gracefully blocked this? Let me gently remind you.
Early 90s.
Little child, about 5 years old.
Dance beat.
Lyrics that go something like "Oeoeoeoei bääbä, iio iai bobebi" I guess they're French, although they could be some kind of Lovecraftian language of terror.
Coming back? Eh? It's all coming back? Isn't it? Huh? Uh? It is, isn't it?
And when you stop trying to scrub your brain clean with a rake, don't say I didn't warn you.
Nothing. NOTHING. NOTHING you offer can compare to that horrible little kid going "Oeoeoeoeoei bääbä, iio iai bobebi."
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