olde gone killa drive his falcon
talking at a music expo
telling people bout the lyrics
and the meaning of the music
bout the chords i stumbled onto
strumming in the sydney darkness
in a terraced house just somewhere
in the humid daylight strumming
how i wrote unguarded moment
how i signed some stupid contract
how the teenie weenies mobbed me
when we’re 13 with a bullet
when we fell from charts like concrete
how sometimes they never paid us
and the kids in olde newcastle
did they like the killers talking
were they amazed by his insights
or just the philistine fiasco
predicted by his hearts dull murmur
driving down the endless highways
connecting up these dirty cities
got his cd player pumping
got his head all full of music
and the people from the expo
say maybe you come back tomorrow
perhaps you have something to offer
perhaps youre not a stoned olde hippy
harbour bridge was very crowded
crowded with the peak hour traffic
little killer in the falcon
white white beard and calves like sculptures
plotting thinking dreaming driving
opera house and manly ferries
yonder lies olde kirribilli
haven for the weasel spirit
killa thinks about his long life
thinks about the hungry audience
thinks about the sharps and minors
thinks about the strings and pedals
all the buttons and the dials
and the noise and all the silence
all the music yet unwritten
all the poems still unspoken
all the skys weve yet to fly through
causal astral mental travel
everything has many facets
every devil many levels
looking for a neat equation
looking for a handy exit
heading homeward in the sunset
homewards to his wife and daughters
waiting for him in the twilight