Natasha Bedingfield - I Wanna Have Your Babies
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas But what if it don't? What happens in my head stays in my head But sometimes it won't What if you knew what I was thinkin Would it make you like WOHHHHH!...
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
But what if it don't?
What happens in my head stays in my head
But sometimes it won't
What if you knew what I was thinkin
Would it make you like WOHHHHH!
Dont wanna risk puttin' my foot in it
So ill keep my mouth closed!
Apparently, Natasha believes that whatever happens in Las Vegas should stay in Las Vegas and never be talked about again. Clearly she has no idea of modern society and how it is, well, impossible to hide anything from anyone, and that. I’m sure many good things have happened in Vegas which people have been all too eager to share outside of Vegas – I mean, people get married there. You don’t get married in Vegas then go home and pretend you’re not married. People win lots of money there. You go home and you lavish gifts upon yourself and your friends as you brag about your tremendous success. Which is all fair enough and all emphatic proof that no, what stays in Vegas does not stay in Vegas. And what if it doesn’t Tash? Well, that’s just life.
And what if I knew what you were thinking? Well, quite honestly, I’m a bit of a bastard and I would do all I could to blackmail you in order to ensure I was very rich and that you my dear were very very poor. I would then use this blackmailing of you to get to your brother Daniel (the talentless sod that he is) and ensure that he never made music again. Quite how I’d go about this is still somewhat in the works, but theres the mission statement. Take it or leave it.
All you hear is...
mmm mmm m m m m
Gonna button my lip So the truth dont slip
mmm mmm m m m m m
Gotta beep out what I really wanna shout
Woops Did I say it out loud, did you find out
I wanna have your babies
Get serious like crazy
I wanna have your babies
I see 'em springin up like daisies
Natasha Bedingfield it seems is having a stroke. All she can say is “mmm mmm m etc.”, either that or she is really enjoying the packed of Minstrels she bought from Mr. Patels corner shop today. She then declares that she must button her lip (which I can only assume means attaching a button to her upper lip and making a hole in her lower lip – a ghastly thought, for so many reasons. Aside from the obvious pain, just what colour button should one go for in such a situation, and so on and so forth). She also has decided that instead of speaking, she is instead going to make incoherent beeping noises to ensure that no secrets get out – but somehow through this primitive Morse code imitation system it gets out that she wants to have the Subjects babies. Whether this is just because she likes them (e.g. like how I’d say I’d like to have Morgan Freeman’s children, even though physically this isn’t possible), or whether the believes the subject to have a particularly fertile seed and as such prove to be a particularly good mate to compliment her ready and fresh soil, on tip top form after a fallow year. Indeed, this soil should be good enough to sprout the daisies that she so desires.
Some of my feelings keep escapin'
so I make it a joke
Nonchalant I keep on fakin'
So my heart dont get broke
Im in a big big big big ocean in a tiny little boat
Ill only put the idea out there If I know its gonna float
Despite her incoherent Morse code beeping system, some of her intimate feelings continuously escape and she has to make jokes about them to ensure that these feelings are not taken seriously. Oh my. It’s impressive enough to be able to speak another (albeit incoherent) language, but to be able to make jokes in said language…well that’s just impressive. Natasha keeps on faking and lying in order to make everyone believe that she isn’t telling the truth, whilst she spirals into a sense of self destruction and a severe shortage of self-confidence as she can’t express her true feelings. And she will only do so if she is 100% certain. What a pickle.
In my head there's a slot machine
And Im bettin' you're the one in my hopes and dreams
Natasha Bedingfield, with a newfound gambling obsession that just hasn’t been referred to so far in this piece, appears to have developed a mental complexion wherein her brain has been converted to a slot machine. Funnily enough this is the only time in the entire song where she refers to her apparent love of gambling, and as such I believe this to be psychologically significant. If only she would divulge some more information on the matter, perhaps she could be referred to an appropriate anonymous group or therapist – a gambling addiction is, after all, just as serious as a drug addiction. It wrecks lives, families, and homes.
Trust me it would scare you if you knew what was goin' on in my brain
Trust me it would scare you that I've picked out the church all the schools all the names
If you knew it was all about you every wish Every candle every coin in a fountain
Trust me it would scare you
Apparently it would scare me if I knew what was going on in Natasha Bedingfields brain. This could be because it may include something complex and terrible like murder, something under-complex and terrible like her idea for a novel (as well as her ideas for a chapter structure and introductory line), or nothing at all. All three of which would be horrible things. It would however appear that she is indeed writing a novel – about religion. It includes elements such as Candles, Sunday School, and Fountains. So it could be a transnational dash between a sleepy English village and the Trevi Fountain in Rome then. And do you know what scares me about this? Apart from the obviously scary notion of Natasha Bedingfield writing a novel.
It would probably be a bestseller. For Petes sake.
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