8 02 in the morning
troubled grey sky
overcast mind
feeling like something waiting for me
out there
someting thats gonna bring problems
something wicked
something bad
something from the past
coming back to haunt me
problems i cant contain
foreboding
xmas all gone
that doesnt worry me none
new years eve
dont mean much to me
what could it be…?
barometric pressure?
peer group pressure?
ha ha
i am peerless….
cos youve run out of pot…?
nah, i’ll sort that out eventually
oh misery take your hands off me
let me me see ya
so i know whom i am fighting against
dont persecute me with yer vague whispers and threats
perhaps too much time
on computer
sk suffering from electro-magnetic pollution
(all for your sake, my preciousses)
sk plagued by little bickerers
sk hounded by bad conscience
sk sensitive to mobile phones
the smell of meat
too much tv
(please….turn it off)
horrible music in the air
(or is it just my tinnitus?)
feeling frail
feeling mortal
tho for no real reason
come on, sk, cheer us up a little
we logged on for a laff
not for your maudlin old tripe
i wish i was drivin along with tim again
between noosa and brisbane
when our tour was yet one day olde
for a few hours my universe was defined
the interior of our tarago van
the radio playing some weird olde station
talking things over
as we accelarated through the warm drizzle
wilo, are ya out there
i miss ya buddy
it was a goode time, wasnt it?
i wish i was a twin
e and m
a and e
they never seem lonely
always got each other
me……..
ive always felt on my own
only tiny little times
here and there
when i feel un-isolated
whoa sk
you succumbing to some heavy melancholia, olde pal
no wonder
you havent done yer laps for a while
youve done very little yoga
yer meditations have been half hearted
it doesnt keep going
if you neglect the infrastructure
i have to run as hard as i can
to stay in the same place……
or all my songs
and words
come back to bite me on the arse
at times like these
jesus
i gotta get away from this
radiation spitting machine
from this screen
sending out its death rays inta mah soul
i gotta pull the plug
i gotta get in the sea
i gotta get in the astral
i gotta get some pure clean food and air
i am a vintage sports car
and i need a lotta lookin after
you cant thrash me up and down
the highway too much
man
you self centred old s. o .b
you soft centred coffee cream
that last chokky in the box
that no one fancies….
SNAP OUTTA IT, olde bean

i will speak to you all
later
signed
me