voice of another kilbey
whisper whisper whisper
fragment of fictional memory
what is lurking beneath ordinariness
kilbey lost his mind
i have commandeered this page
i am not him
he is not me
there are millions of us in every direction
kilbeys to kingdom come on
as far as the I can see
tragic isnt it
the mechanistics are in place
the stars are aligned
the scorpion will move into the crab
the lion will lay down on the lam
one and only kilbey
no he has split up now
no one reads on saturday
the sound of the wind in a letterbox
people leave in a hurry
the holidays stretch on ahead
they will roll in the surf
they will fuck in hotels
they will drink in the hot black australian night
they will drive on lonely roads
they will be stuck in traffic
they will swell out and disperse
they will play cards at night in caravans
they will argue with the sunburnt landlords
they will stop for fuel and a piss
they will stop n look at scenic spots
my dad will be out there driving
somewhere in melbourne
asking for directions to a moorabin he can never seem to find
and grant will be sittin’ at a bar drinking his long island tea
and david mccomb will be sitting in a hot room writing some song
about how his baby has disappeared into the bush
and mozart will be checking in to his room at batemans bay
and paul klee will be cruising down the great ocean road
kilbey youre losing it mate
kilbey to earth
everything coated with fuzz or scum
a caramel coating dipped with angelfruit
yeah oh i forgot
lemuria
how are the rents there these days?