Ah, I’m Bono and this is the Saturday Night Live. This is not a rebel song. This is Saturday Bloody Live. Something. Camera? Is this my camera? This is Bono’s camera. We get three songs because we’re U2, fronted by Bono.
Yeah. That’s right. I’m Bono. Big B, two ohs, little n. No. Not Boon. Bono. I’m art, you wouldn’t understand. That’s why I speak Spanish in the beginning of Vertigo. Because no one understands me. That’s how I can get away with saying “One two three fourteen”. Because I’m Bono.
Now we swing the camera around. Swing the camera. This is Bono’s camera. And this is Bono’s camera. What? Where’s Bono? Where did Bono go? I play hide and seek. You weep when you cannot see me and now here I am and you may smile again.
This is the Edge. The Edge and I aren’t talking right now because I tried to tell him that those Converse shoes were low rent and I was wearing my leather blazer and D&G Bono glasses which convert me from my secret identity into Bono.
Hello Miss Frightened Blonde Lady in the Audience Watching Bono. Rejoice because you’ve got Bono humping your lap. Don’t hate me because I’m Irish. Heeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaahoooooh! Hear my pain. And now I wink at my camera and then clutch Blonde Girl From The News Part That I Never Watch to my breast. Yeah. That’s right. That’s right. You love me. Hey. Don’t weep on the leather. Heeeeeeaaaahooooh! You love Bono! Fourteen!
