CHARLES:
I was born in London
A loyal subject of the king
I was a soldier for my country
Never asked for anything
I was voted into parliament
Had a burgeoning career
I was asked to run a township
The king assigned me here
Really?
Here
Seven thousand miles from England
In the middle of the jungle with the bugs
Here
Where the food is barely edible
To any living creature but the slugs
Here
A colony so far away
It takes a month to get a message home
Here
At the ass-end of the empire
An afterthought, I guess I’m on my own
But it’s three thousand acres of land so fertile
You could grow almost anything off it
I’d skim each harvest, I’d cook the books
And turn a tidy profit
If I kept it stealthy
Soon I’d be so wealthy
I’d leave Guiana in the dust
And buy a house in Chelsea
But no, no, I’m still
Here
When they start to build the flywheels
And I wonder why they’re taking all the land
Here
They occupy the waterfront
The best place I can grow my contraband
Here
A letter finally comes from London
Telling me to give them what they need
Here
Now I’m stuck with nothing
No, your Majesty, that’s not what we agreed
Then in comes celebrity Sir John Herschel
And everyone adores him
He speaks a lot of nonsense
But the monarchy supports him
At first, we would get on
But one day he was gone
And passes an American – woman! – the baton
I don’t think so
No, no, no, not
Here
I tried my hand at subtlety
By poisoning the clay that made your bricks
Here
Would you have left my township
If your flywheels had been splintered into sticks
Here
If there was an accident
It would not reach the throne for thirty days
Here
I’d remove the evidence
And send home a report that would say
“The experiment was dangerous
I did my best to warn them
But every single one ignored the signs
I was the only witness
There were no survivors”
Murder wouldn’t even cross their minds
I’ve done my time
I’ve been upstanding
Now this sphere’s
Getting a crash landing
That leaves Charles
As the last man standing
Here!