the long drive thru sydneys northern suburbs
struggle to stay awake
whose driving
past the posh houses and the brick boxes
christmas trees
other days
i go into my reverie
dad tuning in the radio
i hear my sweet lord for the 1st time
it was already #1 in england n america
mum in the back seat with the boys
on our holiday
we pull into a caravan park
i get a caramel thickshake
i eat hot chips with vinegar
reverie warps a bit
memorys all in one
kathy n david neil run the place
we are in canada walking through the pines
in some brief summer
david and i take acid in the northern light
we swim in a dam with some other people
crazy davy and lazy jane
we build a fire
drink beers
david plays us his songs
i close my eyes n i drift off
listening to his words
in his song hes jumping a train to saskatoon
i feel the outside go past
i hear the track and the clacketty clack
i hear the whistle
i wake up in a swiss hotel over looking a lake
i bought some dope at a dope emporium
i had been dreaming of our holiday
we had when i was a kid
dad had really laid a lotta money down
a big holiday he had said
we stopped in at places on the way there
i heard george harrison again in the caravan park
i heard ride a white swan too for the 1st time
it seemed i had reached a fork in a road
dad was smoking little cigars to get off cigarettes
he didnt like my sweet lord so much
my parents were very wary of gospel singers
the hallelujahs put em off
if they listened n heard the hare krishnas
they would have hated that even more
last thing my dad wanted to hear on his radio
was an ex beatle singing an ode to a blue hindu god
years later when heroin had truly becalmed me in my own house
when my day was trying to scrape money together
i found krishna in my library before i sold all the books
on a hot overcast day i tried to save a beautiful weed
growing in the gutter
a lovely pink lotus like flower had appeared
in filthy grey rozelle a pink lotus bloomed outside my house
in the gutter
it was sign from krishna to me surely
but the idiot from the council cut it down
in that single act lay the madness of the western world
perhaps i have told you of that before
yeah dirty old rozelle full of rust n fleas
full of terrace houses full of hippies smoking dope
full of pubs and working class geezers quaffing ale
blokes walking greyhounds
fly backwards n forwards round australia
check in
do sound check
find veg meal
have shower n shave
do my hair
do gig
meet the locals
go home
get to sleep
get up
pack your suitcase
aw it wont fucken close today
jump in the cab
you dont stay anywhere long
your own breathing wakes you up in pitch darkness
where are you?