you know i could be happy
if that damned shark hadnt bitten off my leg
if that bloody snake hadnt poisoned me
if that eternal revenue hadnt repossessed my son
if that bastard hadnt stolen all my songs n
repaid me by burning me at the stake
if i hadnt been braised by a toothy beardless wag
if i listened
if i watched
if i’d applied myself more at school
headmaster : why dont you apply yourself, boy
kilbey : with what applicator , sir?
headmaster : youre green and wet behind the ears, lad
kilbey : am i a pleasie-o-saw, sir?
headmaster : are you a half-wit, boy?
kilbey : no sir, i’m a full one
headmaster : you need the cane, lad
kilbey : yessir! research has shown painful impact
on the fingers including burst blood vessels n bruising
can improve cognitive function and neural response time!
headmaster : hold your hand up,BOY!
hold your hand up, BOY!
hold your hand high!
kilbey picks up his aria violin bass guitar
and el kabongs the principal (on principle)
the head weilds the cane like errol finn
hes quite a fencer
kilbey leaps about destroying the heads memorabilia
with mighty swathes of his guitar
smash go the old photos of the head as a boy
in his winning rowing team
smash go the trophies from eton
bash goes the photo of his porky grandson
the deputy rushes in with his cane
kilbey is now fighting off 2 senior teachers n the janitor
single handedly he manages to get the MC5 on the school p.a.
UP AGAINST THE WALL MOTHERFUCKERS sing the MC5
which must have been the 1st time most people had heard
the oedipal conjunctive
(this really happened at lyneham high, someone put
that record on the p.a….it played full blast
for about 1 n a half minutes
before it was switched off;
the perpetrators were expelled)
with my swinging bass
i liberated class after class
who burst hungrily from their classrooms
swarmed to the music room
and arming themselves with instruments
kilbey kilbey kilbey! they all roared
i leaped up on the podium
in the ass-emblee room
and i boldly took the mike in the jim
or was it the jim in the mike
or was he on the tramp at the time
this is what i said
o children of a lezzy god
we are the fewcha
yes today we have won a small victory
(is this its taste?)
voice in crowd : no, that was half a vegemite roll…
kilbey : ah…but we must be alert
(we need more lerts)
(coughing…becoming serious, now)
i will lead you to the land of milkshakes n honeybuns
i am the teen mess higher
i am the nazgulrene
i am i am i am…
the crowd : are you?
kilbey : yes i am
as i stand here
with the flower of the education department vanquished at our feet
amidst the busted euphoniums n ruined bass drums
yes i am sent victorious noble and quite quite glorious
the sickroom is filled with our injured
we have seized the tuckshop
fryer tuck has been deposed
here…free half vegemite rolls for all
the teachers common room is awash in the tyrants tears
oh we have crushed babylon…!
the boys roared and stamped
the girls fainted and screamed
such was my personal empowerment on that day
now i must go up onto mt ainslie
to talk to g.h. over
to obtain the deckalog
the tencom mangoes
alone i walked for many minutes
up up up into the cloudy heights
where no man had ever trod
past the scenic lookout
past the j.m. waddlespoon memorial picnic tables
past the dumping of rubbish strictly forbidden sign
(and all the rubbish under it)
past the carpark full of stationary bouncing panel vans
past the slippery when wet sign
(ritchie sambora shooting holes in it)
1,778 centimetres above see level
in the pines
(in the pines)
above the twee line
and i called out
i must needs see your face
voice from heaven : hang on, hang on….!
sound of toilet flushing n kettle boiling
kilbey : god!
god : yes, my son
kilbey: no i was just saying god! cos a mozzie bit me
god : a moslem, my son? then dont blame me….
kilbey : why didJa make em?
god : no that was Al R. ……
kilbey : no…the mozzies….!
god : oh…uh….well it cant be all good, can it?
kilbey : do You love teenagers, God?
god : i am a teenager myself, my son
kilbey : then reveal Thyself…
god : you are not ready for My glory, sunshine
kilbey : c’mon….
suddenly the creator filled the sky with his visage
he was a handsome hip cat with a feather cut n skull earrings
he was smokin’ something n sloshing down orange juice
he had on a heavenly zigger jacquet
n real anti-lopes
he had a fender 7 string bass n a handpainted paisley strap
he had grown a nifty little beard that was slightly out on the left side
he had a few blackheads around his nostrils
his eyes were slightly bloodshot n dilated
he had a bit of a nasty cough
he had a trial subscription for a sunday newspaper
he had bits of lolly wrappers in his pockets
he couldnt remember his mothers phone number
what was it he was going to say….?
ever endless spool of words
you know i could be happy