sex
smoke
sea
sand
storm
its a hundred degrees outside
nimbus baby nimbus
the sky glowers
the fuckin’ sun blasts you you wouldnt believe
it radiates thru you like a cosmic ray
drive along with your hundred radio stations
fumes smoke air condition
i work on the past
i write notes for my boxset
i walk to some hot shop n have a tomato sandwich with chips
i read the paper about local celebrities with less talent than shrubs
someone violates my fake roses in the drive
a cockroach shudders as the ants eat it inside out
i am in botany today
yeah near the famous botany bay
toora ra roora ra atali baby
where old cap’n c(r)ook landed
working on the fucking past
thinking about the long gone days of your yore
hot days
big storms
tape recorders
hot bitumen like burn your souls off
in a blue collar blue singlet part of town
i stick twenty dollars in a poker machine n it doesnt blink
i think win win win at machine
but it goes lose lose lose
i drink coffee to stay awake
i am silent in the group
i alone in my head
isolated as usual
a high and lonely destiny said uncle andrew
in my ivory ivied i-mind tower of hours
kilbey
blah blah blah
see you soon
aha