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lyrics

My son, the time has come for you to make a big decision
do you want to live the life of a down and out musician?
while your friends are clapping hands as they roll into the bank
and you’re walking from the station to the nearest taxi rank
do you want to be a doctor? a lawyer? engineer?
or in corporate ladder climbing to advance in your career?
and even though you’ll be unhappy, at least you’ll get a car
before you make a start
make sure you get a real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)

Now I know you spend your days by perfecting the guitar
there simply is no guarantee that you’ll become a star
but if you’re an accountant you’ll travel very far
from a tiny basement office to an upstairs with a bar
now I know it sounds predictable, you’ll know when you’ve arrived
when you’re cruising down the highway in that brand new 325
and you’re putting down that payment on that house behind the park
before you make a start
make sure you get a real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)

Now don’t you count your chickens before they even hatch
don’t you waste a fruitful future on the things you shouldn’t have
and don’t become a singer in a rock band, before you make a stand
make sure you get a real, real job (ooohhh)

My dad, he thinks that I’ve been wasting my life
chasing a dream that will never realise
I can’t make it as an artist, I won’t survive
I have to prove I’m a man before my boat arrives
I have to make it as a CEO, boss of multi-nationals
pushing Alpha Romeos up and down a busy road
people on the street will go, “your dad should be proud”
I wonder if they ever knew how hard I try
to prove that I am capable and not another waste of space
not another hopeless case hoping for a lucky break
knowing there’s no guarantee, no-one in my family believes in my humanity
they think it’s all insanity
living in a fantasy, living in a dream
running from reality is what it looks to mean
they never see the heartache, they never see the grief
how can I do a work of art my dad would believe?

But now you’re playing Wembley Stadium and the crowd begins to shout
how did I let those silly words just slip out of my mouth?
how could I be so callous as to never figure out?
you took me with a doubt
and didn’t get a real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)
real, real job (ahhh...)

Welakapela you didn’t get a real job x 4

credits

from The Seedling (Deluxe Version), released February 26, 2020
Written by J. Prinsloo, A. Rogowski, R. Roman, J. Skippers

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Fruit Vendor Cape Town, South Africa

Fruit Vendor is an eclectic Afropop music project from Cape Town, South Africa that fuses elements of ghoema, maskandi, funk, hip hop, RnB, rock and jazz – altogether held together by authentic, meaningful lyrics and a distinct and colourful live show. It’s their mission to share their musical fruit as far and as wide as possible.

“Original, quirky, funny and super skilled…” – Weekend Special
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