The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

hadda loverly burfday etc
elli n minna come to dinner
pastizzzis n salad n birthday cake
drink ruby riccadonna from silver rimmed goblets
today im walkin down my street
a guy i know in cafe game
comes out
oh you should try buzzz
a legal high sold in happy highs newtown
its made from chocolate n honey n bitter orange n saffron
n a few other things
how can that get you high i ask
its like you know how you get a little warm glow
from a chocolate bar he says
yeah i say
he says this is like eating 50 bars of chocolate
somehow intensified into a focussed wallop
ok
i get home
i say come on we’re going to newtown
so we arrive over there
nk buys a new dress
tonite we’re seeing t.amos at the oprah house, sydney austraylia
thats right
weve had our tickets fer munths
personally im not that over excited
tho i must admit last time she was pretty good
a bit to gurlie for me
at the core of it
i do not feel included in her songs
they are sorta about n for women in essence
i admire her talent immensely
while conceding she also owes a huge debt to k.bush
no kate no tori
kate was the 1st in my book
margo smith was the 2nd
her first album is as good as tori in most parts
and it pre-dated her too
anyway
we’ll be watching tori do her thing
apparently she wears a lotta wigs
i cant wait
ooooh wig changes
apparently to play the characters on her record
can you imagine the church all changing their wiggies
for each song
and having our makeup touched up too
anyway
im sure t.amos will be brilliant as per usual
shes an amazing pianist
afterwards
ah
i’ll be test driving buzzz for you
and giving you my verdict tomorrow
well
thats a day in the life of ttb
my day equals your ear
a minute beside you
and its gone
like this song

oh boy
its september 13
1967
its my thirteenth birthday
im into music n im into fashion
and im in to being cool
and im in to not getting punched in the head
and im into floral shirts
and paisley shirts
satin n silk shirts
beatle boots
pinstriped pants
and im becoming aware
the adult world is calling harder
there had been a party at greg mcsomethings house
and this party was different
the parents werent there
and the kids were lying around kissing each other
afterwards everyone thought it had been a great party
oh i wanted a party like that!
join the flock said the invitation
n a picture of some pelicans or something
my parents were not into a buncha kids roaming around
in their house if they werent there
besides it was a small boring house
no good for a party anyway
but our next door neighbour had a garage
where hed had some successful parties (for oldies)
and he kindly offered
we took him up on it
we lived in a cul de sac
and we were # 7
the guy next door should be # 8, right?
wrong
the guy across the street was # 8
and thats what all the invitations said
so all the kids turned up at this confused german guys house
you can imagine this guy answering the door
no there iss no party here
schteven kilbeys house iss over there
pointing at our redbrick box
the kids drift over to our house a little miffed, i’d say
my mother greets these aussie kids at the door
she talking like the queen
no boys and girls the party is next door
the kids all groan n moan
beginning to suspect the stinker of all parties is loomin’
another kid turns up on our doorstep
whats going on ? he asks
kilbey put the wrong address on the invite
dont you even know yer own address kilbey? says someone else
then my mother gives me baby john to hold
im holding baby john
when trip fontaine the coolest prick turns up
he walks in our house
all duded up in his best party clothes
a red epauletted shirt
bone elephant cords
blue black zip up suede boots
he was coming to my party
on the condition that he was gonna get to
kiss whichever girl was on his menu that night
he wasnt there cos he liked me
he was looking for a spare room in which to pash off a chick
he was looking for some dark space n privacy for a little love
for a little love
will there be somewhere for me n kathy to go ?he asks
sure i had assured him
i mean
i needed him there
he lent a certain flare to proceedings
he was hip and he was merciless
anyhow hed arrived and walked in
seeing me nursing baby john who probably
at that very moment
cast up his accounts all over big brother
(ie: he puked up.ed)
eventually all the kids who had deigned to come
had done the 3 way bounce between 8 7 and 9
and we were all in mr dalys garage
well it was sept in canberra and it was freezing cold
the garage was damp and cold
the windows in it fogged up with our breath
there were a few deck chairs n a lawn mower or 2
there were spare car parts and a barbers chair that
went up n down
jan-jan k from across the road
who was younger than my mum n dad
and deemed “with-it”
had on butchers paper
drawn a big hippy offering these plastic flowers
trip fontaine walked straight in n took em
put them back hissed my mother to him
oh the shame
everybody at the party was very disappointed
it was so cold in there
no party atmosphere…
ive felt more partyfeeling in a graveyard
none of the kids really liked me
the girl i’d hoped to kiss
didnt come
and my mum n dad were there
mum talking like the queen
dad talking like a cockney geeza
i open my presents
the kids resent having to get me a present
it means hounding yer parents for money
and then going out n finding something
for some kid
that you didnt like…i mean
you were only there to kiss some girl or boy
in a parentless warm dark house
not to be in a garage on a cold drizzly evening
one kid called bob steery
he thrusts a dollar note in my hand
n says
but youre not worth it!
mum n dad have devised a party game
which consists of someone under a blanket
having shoes on their hands
and sitting up suddenly
frightening the kids n making them laugh
well lemme tell ya
it did neither in spades
the puzzled kids are like
what the fuck is that sposed to be
meanwhile i tried smoking straws
thats right i’d light a paper straw n inhale the smoke
no wonder im so brain damaged now, huh
finally trip fontaine mounted the barbers seat
pulled his girl onto his lap
and began to smooch
also discovering that the chair went up n down
he smooched n went up n down over n over
even this was pathetic however
in this damp quiet non celebration
in a canberran garage in the middle of a cold sept night
trip got up
proclaimed his disgust n exited
the others made their excuses n took off after him
as my mum n dad n me
carried our peanuts n soft drinks back home, next door
dad says
well…
watcha reckon slim?
did the kids enjoy it?
yeah dad
they had a ball

evening my little pigs
listening to sigur rose
have recorded a track today with jorden b
called the coffee song for the church
i did my vocals that is
the musics quite olde
kinda swampy slippery lazy
“and we can laugh at how easy it all is
and we can laugh cos everybodys in showbiz”
nice stuff
gee jorden is a lovely man
calm n clear
good advice
he gently steers me around
perhaps you could do it again steve he says
and you dont mind that he thinks you could do it better
anyway i write it n sing it in about 2 hours
thats long enough
i guess this track may be on itunes with hounds of love
or something
i will finish today with a poem i am about to write
right now
its starting
can you tell where one thing leaves off
and another thing starts?
can you tell where north ends and south begins?
can you feel the inbreath turning to the outbreath?
can you feel the turning of the tide?
can you feel time as it passes away into past?
infant youth man
a tiny tiny cloud can blot out the sun
what if the sun was god?
what if this was a little dream you were having
in an enchanted wood
by a gurgling brook
blossoms floating thru the eternal spring
and youre 16 forever and forever
in love in love in love
and you walk with the spirits of the trees
and you take these dryads as your lovers
and apollo comes down from olympus
and plays his music which none may resist
and drunk on purple wine
you love your days away
the nights are black studded with silver stars
the grecian night
the wine
the love
the marvellous disarray
a grove of trees hide you from the moon
in the distance is summer
on the horizon a mauve velvet evening
in the air is immortal music
filled with transient harmonics
filled with divine drones and flurries
oh arkadia!
oh centaurs and dancers!
oh our glorious procession!
time stops
the moment freezes
or hardens into a solid unchangeable thing
we will remember this
we may forget much
but we will remember this
this love
this wine
this night
for ever

walking up n down buns-wicke street blowing a bone
after the motel man seemed quite antipathetic to the idea
i drift off to times in this city as a childe of les n joyce
these houses on stilts and the wild vegetation
under the house with howard n angela playing
i threw a dart in russells leg
he just stood there looking at me
with “how could you?” in his eyes
he didnt even call out to mum
we go to a swimming pool complex called the oasis
the water in the different pools is freezing
look heres the film of me endlessly jumping off a diving board
dad thinks its funny in reverse
so in this version
after my white freckly body hits the water
and goes under
there is a strange tumescence in the water
and with a great gush
lo the boy appears again
and ascends back up
to land perfectly surefooted back on the diving board
dripping dry suddenly
uncle ralph n auntie stella didnt seem to like me much
they could already see me going bad when i was 6 or 7
auntie stella was an oddity in our midst
an australian………
everyone else was english
sometimes my dad would do funny impressions
of the way she called mum joycie
and couldnt see that (in those days)
you didnt call my mum joycie
any more than youd call me stevie
but thats what (we) australians do
we put an ie or y on the enda yer name
whether you want it or not
it evens up the odds a bit
takes you down a peg or two
anyway brisbane was wild in those days
so amazingly hot
(always there at xmas!)
ralph was an old pal of dads from the british marines
this guy i could imagine in warfare
he seemed like the real deal to me
whereas my dad i found it hard to imagine him
bayonetting the enemy
it wasnt what my dad wanted to do
he wanted to have a cigarette with em
and talk about cars
but uncle ralph
i reckon he was more a warrior type
i could always hear em telling my dad
he was too soft on me
and that i was too cheeky
if only they had known that one day
i’d be back
walking up the main drag smoking a spliff
with a little box that could play 15000 songs
and headphones that cut out the outside noise
and i was listening to it all in random order
and i was getting a sign from my dead friend
via my little music box
and i stopped in to the same night owl shop
n bought raspberry speed
in a funny little can
and the r. speed n the spliff n the yoga i’d just done
and the cold shower i’d just taken
and i saw m the v
and im-ber
wave at me from a bus
and then my song came on my shuffle
a song i did with martin k
and for a moment it all locked in
like 5 lemons coming up in a fruit machine
the planets were aligned
i moved up that hill more like a rubbery youth than olde manne
energy n wherewithal surged in my body
and i dreamed a million wondrous things
which i instantly forgot again
i bought a wheatgrass juice which is liquid light
i turn up eventually at gig
now the judy wright centre
is a lovely venue no matter how you look at it
and its really nice to do yer thing there
i saw linda neil do her new passion club the night before
with tragic mandarin love story as closer
i knew how it looked from audience
i mingled with people
i signed stuff for some very nice people
ranging from young ladies to one woman even older than me
im much more the congenial mature author
than wild abandoned rocker
which is much less stress on ye olde system
and i try to be polite
and i try to focus
its hard sometimes to focus
i just keep drifting off
all the time
i fall out of character easily
you see im not really any one fixed thing
maybe thats true for everyone
but i sense more continuity in other people
than i can feel in my self
i am mercurial in all its good n bad implications
after spending a whole life thinking who i could be
i am at last realising i am just potentials
to be realised by whomever im with
no one gets a full real me
not the church
not my family
not my friends
certainly not my enemies
not strangers either
there is no full real me to be had
personalities rush in to fill a void when it becomes apparent
to one i am a saint
to another a villain
to some a genius
to many a fool
actually most people have never heard of me
and they dont give a tuppenny stuff
but anyway
its weird dealing with the public
i thought i would like it
and then i hated it
and now its ok but weird
pretty girls n ugly oafs
fans n people who want an argument
old ladies n shy young men
who can remain even handed?
can one be good at everything?
can you be a good poet n a gracious stranger?
of course you can
but was charlie baudelaire a nice bloke?
i doubt it
nonetheless
i think at the end of the day
being a nice bloke gonna get you into a heathens heaven
quicker than being an amazing poet
tho the world doth verily need more of both
i do feel like a bit of a dying breed here
the neo renaissance person i guess you could say
or a good all rounder at everything
someone who can maintain a certain aesthetic
thru out different disciplines
a certain thing you can depend on getting
anyway thats my lofty ideal
anyway thats my petty ambition
plus
trying to be reasonable
trying to understand
trying to not let my restless mind
vent its wicked side on somebody vulnerable
trying to ignore outside appearances
(probably the hardest thing for any human to do)
i want to treat everybody the way i would want to be treated
i have also extended that to the animals and the trees
i want to create things that turn people on
just for the sheer sake of it
the creation and the turning on, i mean
poetry has no reason
poetry has no ulterior motive
the iliad is not grinding an axe
illuminations are simply illuminations
a beautiful day has no agenda
a bird in the sky
however beautiful it is
there is no reason for beauty
beauty is magic
you can sift for beauty in poetry
as you might sift for gold
poetry cannot be for money
its hard to fake good poetry
only ern malley could do that
ern malley accidentally wrote in my opinion
the best aust poetry EVER
next year they should get me to do erns entire oevre
set to music i would have composed
itd be a show stopper im sure
one way or another….
anywhey
i dig poetry
i dig looking thru my klimt book with nk
when i got home
wow says sk n nk n the woofle whos also looking
boy that klimt
ooooh oh hes so damn bloody good
every curly line
every flower n womens faces
and ghosts in the ether
and lovers and naked rude ladies
everything screams his trademark genius
a style thats is so blindingly original
yet so hard to see what it is thats doing it exactly
very hard to replicate klimts style cos its elusive
the stuff is fucking unbelievably brilliant
i could never paint like this
but i might be able to capture some of these feelings
with music
let it all cross fertilize
its all permissible in art n music n love
thats it
my message
over n out

now its over
all the stuff gets put away
pack up my unsold merch
say goodbye to the people
lastnite i catch up with bronny l.
who i used to go to school with at bullyneham high
i 1st met her in 1965
bronny was in our legendary debating team
she knew me as a mere boy
then a snakehipped teenage idol/idiot
now finally as a wise old silly fool
so nice to reminisce
bronny is now a prof in academia
oh bronny cant you get me a gig in them hallowed halls
the ivied towers of learning with certain weekly paycheck
last night i do ramble n provvy-dents with jamie h
he did a nice job considering we rehearsed for 5 minuets own-lee
then i play wolfe….
strangely as im up here hanging out with bronny
nk tells me that scarlet was in my room
going thru my drawers
then she comes out with a business card
whats that ?asks nk
bumper proffers her the card
bronwen l: lecturer in womens writing , uni of q
i mean
what were the chances of that happ-ning?
but
if not chance…
what does it signify?
i did a portrait of mr gee nunn
as his parting gift from qpf……he,
who is more dedicated to poetry
than most are dedicated to hot dinners
hes retiring as herr directeur this year
i wonder if theyll ever have back me now?
gee nunn you are a truly wonderful geezer
your g.friend jules is a legend with a great hare cut
rowan d, jovial lovely friend of the arts
jaqueline t from canada, gracious poetess
jamie n erin h, you guys rule the waives
imber n megan for being so nice n for being vegans 4 ever
wil-o who looks younger than hes got a right to
and exudes calm goodwill-o
all the poets n audiences
isolde who i met n who wrote those nice reviews
gen x , whos said she hears im still handsome(very kind)
the tech staff
the lady who made me a lentil patty at the cafe
tyrone n, rockstar in flesh n thought
special mention to raspberry speed
(yes it exists)
my new fave energy drink
nickfiction eat yer heart out cos raspberry speed
puts fucking hairs on yer chest
(not recommended for the ladies)
thanks to my mum n dad
for making me possible
and finally to god
without whom
i would not be the incredibly gifted n charismatic tee beeing
that you all worship
and would hide from the law in a second
thank you
everyone
the partys over
back to my loverly fambley
bumper
that enchanted childe with the real gone eyes
the starr with her strength n her talent
aurora the bunny-o who is my kindest daughter
elli who is sweet sixteen n a chip off the olde blokk
minna my number 1 n very tricky
n
nk who keeps me turned on
blessed with my six girls
the being fades into the airport
finds his seat
and
flies flies flies
somewhere

fiendss everywhere
i love you

sk
x

yeah yeah yeah
i read the f. machine booklet
all the voices in my head disrupting my performance
theyre saying
be more dramatic
less dramatic
more gesticulation
less gesticulation
youre outta time
your voice is driving us mad
i only stumble in a few places
but im not as good as i wanted to be
and im tired of myself
after a lovely vegan meal with
the nice local vegan childs…
the killer opts for tempeh burgah
i come back n do teachers n suzanne
the mic. really stinks bad
and i have to get up close to sing suzanne
and its a foul reek of cigs coffee n meaty halitosis i guess
im used to having my own clean mic usually
and i really wanted to stay away from this awful thing
but i had to get close to sing the quiet bits…
its not all dancing on clouds…
i walk round brizzy bumping into people i know
having poetic discourses n all that
a nice gentle sunday
oh yeah
n i forgot to say
the doodles in paper yessaday flying kites
sat telegraph
go you little doodles
i’ll be a bossy hollywood dad
ripping off my kids and the bane of directors
bitching at the casting session bout the other brats
the doodles will have bulimia by their tenth birthday
and be in the gossip rags by 13
i’ll be manipulating the game from the sideline
lining my own pockets with ill gotten gain
its just the beginning
bumper can release her first single at age 3
with sexy dance routine
for the lucrative under 2 market
i maybe could get joycie in some retirement commercials
aint that what families are for….to exploit….?
get em all on the ad wagon
deduct my commission
(and girls, in case youre wondering, its formidable)
hollywood will beckon n re embrace me
i will be forgiven n absolved
and back in the charts at # 1 all over the world
for one year with painkiller
ah….
lemme have my dreams, little stranger

i will be performing again tonite
maybe with jamie h
a few songs
at closing ceremony
its free too
a free for all
oooh
i hope that mics been disinfected
yecchhh!

last night i have din dins in tibetan resto
with ty n
we both have lentil rissoles n potatoes n tomato
delicious
ty is a very groovy looking guy in a 1970s way
a big fro of dirty blonde hair
smooth skin
slim body clad in rockstar civil war denim look
everybody must know who he “is”
i see some people whispering n looking our way
ty n i have a good fucking laugh at everyones expense
but mostly our own i guess
except he keeps mentioning “that song”
i dont care if its a standard
a classic
or whatever its sposed to be
i just have nothing to add
ty mentions another song
i look sadly out at the traffic
i have as much relationship with that song
as i do with those passing cars i murmur
we watch jamie h from bluebottle k
he does his solo show
now hed been mentioning me a bit in his songwriting talk
i can see now my influence upon him
but not that he copied me
but that he could dig the implications of my schtick
(whatever it is)
and he took the ball n he ran with it
doubt seeds the double album is great
and last night his performance was top notch
wonderfully inventive guitar parts on his martin guitar
lost of weird tunings n detunings
always these multiple things happening
descending/ascending basslines
while melodies appear n go in the jingly drones
the lyrics are pretty fucking good
and you know i dont bestow praise easily
thoughtful intelligent strange
youd deffo like this guy
anyway
me n jh walk home after gig
we have a lot in common
interesting…..
up early this morning
have boost juice
buy some more funny iron on patches at the market
that make me feel hip and cutting edge
or ambiguously ironic
wonder where i’ll put me gene simmons patch…?
grant comes on ipod 3 times while im on buns-wick street
then gee nunn is wearing a mclennan t shirt
hows that?

have been walking round yon corner to ‘ave a smoke

rowan d gave me a lovely book on klimt…superb!
rowan you are a prince among men
today i read fruit m
tonight i play lenny cehon songs
teachers n suzanne
small point of interest
sisters of mercy named best of
some girls wander by mistake
is a line from teachers
the next line
into the mess that scalpels make
oooh how visceral
how prescient
how leonard
anyway
see me murder those 2 numbers tonite
judy write centre brizzo aust
and if you buy my book
i will sign your mortage
if you buy my cee dee
i will sign your star
look alive fiendss
the killer walks among you

motel room
cars drive by
brisbane stormy, rainy childe
look in the mirror
fiddle with my guitar
someone rings up
hi steve he says
someone walks around on the floor above
i practice my leonard songs
its lonely this life
must do my yoga
eat muesli n soy milk
drink grape juice
listen to ambient music
do yoga n qi gong
go to venue
do songwriting gig
yeah yeah yeah
i inhaled and i talked for an hour
songwritings this n that
i alternate between confident professor
and shy fool
i open my mouth and the words come forth
something nicely drives the machine
even if im not at the wheel
we answer some q n a
come back to motel
get an angry call from manager about “smoking” in my room
it was incense but hes pretty incensed himself
hes right…i shouldna done it
i meekly n quietly apologise
he can hear hes getting thru n he calms down
he tells me how its his living
and how the rooms should have no smell
once again hes right
i assure him there will be no more smoke of any kind
he seems satisfied and hangs up
i open all windows let this unsatisfied afternoon into my room
out there cabs cruise and kids come outta school
im not part of anything
the vertigo of my apart-ness fills me with nausea
the luxury of it all is absurd
i cant get a fix on who im supposed to be
the olde kilbey continues to crumble…
who is waiting under there ready to pop out?

a sydney footballer is in hot water cos of drugs
the guy apparently is a champion n successful player
and hes admitted to doing ecstacy regularly for a long time
….after being sprung by a copper in england
now said player is saying oh i took it cos of the pressure
oh i took it cos im bi-polar(bear)
but not
i took it cos i like it
now the hallowed halls of the rugby league(not human league)
are wringing their hands
gnashing their teeth
scratching their cauliflower ears
saying where did we go wrong?
and a whole load of other players too have been caught
and in the same week a pamphlett arrives
about getting tuff on drugs
i thought we were already tuff on drugs
but we gotta get tuffer
if we get tuffer we can stamp em out it says
although after about a hundred years of tuffness on drugs
theyre still there
jails full of drug users who are otherwise law abiding tax payers
police system stretched so they can bust drug dealers n users
courts clogged up with it
the dealers are thrivin’
the cops are bustin’
and the user being squashed in the middle
there are just as many if not more drugs out there
than when i was a kid
more expensive
more potent
more ” dangerous”
more addictive
now aint it time someone said
this war on drugs is ridiculous
you cant have a war “on” an inanimate object for a start
people obviously have some need to change conciousness
i know i do
and i know the change i “need ” is not facilitated by the things
“they” say i can have
tobacco, alcohol, barbituates, prozac etc
no i dont dig em all that much
anyway
the western govts
have
to disenfranchise certain groups
have made other drugs illegal
however i really feel
that the community is paying the price
and that finally biting the bullet
minimising harm to everyone
and establishing outlets which could sell
quality drugs at reasonable prices is the answer
the govt can tax and even own them
the products should all be tested and
manufactured or grown to whatever specifications
this would eliminate
drug dealers
if stuffs being sold for what its really worth
just like sugar or coffee or wine is
then who will pay dealers high prices
when you can get a real organic bag of
(insert drug name here) for the regular nonblackmarket price?
the end of much drugrelated breakins n theft
if the addict only has to find say 30 bucks a day
instead of 300
hes not gonna be ripping off so many car stereos
if drugs are legal the cop force is freed up
instead of busting potsmokers
they can get rapists
instead of some eccy swallowing footy player
they can catch the arms runners n the real badde guys
suddenly all those prisoners in jails can go home
jail dont sort out drug addicts!
treatment may
yoga may
religion or na may
love may
help and care if you reckon they deserve it
but jailing em is expensive uncivilised and actually making things worse
if the users know what theyre getting then fewer overdoses
if the drugs are clean and rated
it will help with diseases and damage to body
of course i realise there are many people
out there
who still say
look
i dont fucking care
i want all the druggies in jail!
have a look around at the havoc this prohibition is creating
it aint working
it aint never has
it aint never will
be as tuff as you fucking well like on drugs
it aint stopping em
people have always taken drugs
i dont actually see how its even a legal or govt matter
to tell me how i may change my consciousness
who gave em that power?
believe me one day
this paradigm will fail
as all the other stuff weve ruined goes wrong on us
with the weather n wars n mad cows n stuff i mean
theyre just gonna say
we cant afford to chase this 1950s drug persecution bullshit
anymore
its impossible
its expensive
and its achieving the exact opposite
in a hundred years
itll be legal to take drugs(again as it was pre 1900)
and
(for ecological reasons)
illegal to eat meat
thats right
vegetarianism would have more impact on the wevver
than if everybody stopped drivin’ their cars
imagine it
being left alone
to enjoy a nice mood alteration
and a nut cutlet
mmm
sks utopia

yeah kids
rocknroll
electric fucking guitars
cymbals crashing white
iggy pop all cut up
smash em with your mikestand
cmon real weird
my heads on fire
cops backstage searching my stuff
hotel elevator at 4 am
man i look dead
static airwaves
the soundcheck was all wrong
everything i heard was the opposite
the drums beating still in my brains
the atonal drone of my bones
the girl scribbled down a number
the people were lining up
the moon was like a badge on the sky
i keep forgetting the words
watch out its loaded
my room has been made up
did i imagine that
afterwards we smoke silently with ronnie someone
gettin’ introduced to a white lady
slipping down the back steps
my guitar never came off that plane
a car crash on the beltway
in the back of the limo laughing
hammer on hammer off
slide up the neck to the head
the lights dazzling again
sweat appears on his face
struggle to catch a breath
the violins are racing now
the crescendo moonlight seeping in
a waitress brings your vodka
someone hands you a mobile phone
its your interview
on the bus the roadies were playin’ 8 ball
the mix was a joke
contractually impossible
ultimately inevitable
the doctor shook his head and smiled
change strings during the slow number
the place looks empty
on in 10 minutes boys!
whats my name ive forgotten
during the intro i realise im totally totalled
im checking out but i cant ever leave
the pools heated and the reception is frosty
an intervention in the obvious moment
the nurse says im sorry mister i cant give you anymore
the guy in charge says pleased to meetcha
the taxi driver says where to?
the flight attendant says coke or booze?
the man in the suit says i dont understand
his wife says me neither
a spelling mistake on our cee dee
someone real importants coming tonite
should i bring along my stageclothes?
do i have time for a nap?
heyi need to fucking see you man…soon
oh i play in a band some nights
about 1200 bucks
almost 5oo people
undersold oversold
overdose undertone
theatre lobby w/ merch and drinks
i travelled a thousand miles to be here
thru boiling nights and freezing days
i jump at a chance
i sign a poster
i sip my wine
i do my thing
i try to open my windows
i make an excuse and leave