posted on July 3, 2006 at 5:05 am

i aint gonna apologise
for missing yessaday, i mean
im sure you got along just fine w/out me
jus’ like you used to….
spending too much time in general
tieing up loose ends
went to a garden party
took some time off from ye olde bumpe n grind
the rats are running a little faster this year
in the race i mean
the great race
to be ascendant on the great machine
till ya barkin ‘ orders to your p.a.
whilst flying 1st class to zurich
to look at some capital investments
and your wifes from olde money
and your children to go DR ramsays
very private school for extremely rich kids
who dont need to learn that much
cos theyll be a xillionaire the day they turn 18 institute
in the eastern eastern suburbs
you drive a porsche six wheel drive sports camper guzzler
with surround sound latest release tv/karaoke/internet/mobile/network
which comes in 2 attractive colours
rose taupe
or puce
and optional extras maxxed out hi tech latest stuff
with all the bilt-ins n plug-ins

i do wish that was me actually
what happens when you wanna trade in yer hippy outfit
for a suit?
maybe i DO wanna come in from the cold
im olde n im broke
like a drinkn a smoke
i wanna come in from the cold
come on olde fruit
you look great in a suit
the vip bathroom is a beckoning
just up a few more floors
in the tower of song
i coulda beena contender
in academia or somethin’
dont i know more about the romans than most old rockers you know
archaeology woulda been a breeze fer me
i can see me onsite in lower turkish coast somewhere
discovering a new civilisation and deciphering their hierogliffix
i woulda had that stuff for breakfast
i coulda been a professor surrounded by admiring students
who doted on my every utterance
i coulda smoked a pipe and had a golden retriever
i coulda hadda smoking jacket n a cravatt
and driven some sleek car blurring thru the massachussetts snow
i coulda knocked off a thesis or 2 by now fiendss
the kilbey effect
by dr s kilbey ph fucking d
on cosine retrogrades n petulant triglyciserides
but who am i to talk…?
i just had about only 15 comments last time i looked
at the other days bloody blogg
which is at least one more than the pathetic 14 i got
for my brilliant little sci fi thing from last week
and ya wonder why im switching off in nov
i cant stand these upps n downes
reversals of fortune doing my fragile ego in
here i am in hippy squalor n poverty
cant afford a haircut or a square meal
am so obviously down n out that the tramps n alkies
take the money out of their caps n cups
and pelt me with 50 cent pieces
stumbling round like a beached comber
i think at least i get lotsa comments on my blogg
and lo and fuckin’ behold
lassa nite
tune in to the pirate networks
get on my blogg
and i scroll rapidement down
until i see 15 comments
thats it i fume
im ending this blogg in novembre now for sure
and thats fore sure
ooohh i feel so abandoned by the commenters
i just need to mention eyewrack
and i’ll getta nother 50 comments
or slag off the “straights”
thatll get me at least another 20 angry answers
but you know
i been trying to do it honestly
by jus’ being my lovable self
and not flagrant controversy
strange days
strange times
feathers ruffled
could lash out unpredictably
could recieve correspondence concerning money
could hear from someone you havent heard from for a whyle
could have minory injury or knock
could sleep in or get up early
could suffer from a headache
and or dizziness
could finish bacchus in pyrmont
could do that song im sposed to be doing
carpet mite
or mat
not expectin’ knots will unravel immediately
gordian slash
told ya i got the ancient history in me
yeah yeah
we can see that y’all groan
we dont want rants
we dont want nostalgia
we dont want sci fi
we dont want anti warbush
we dont want tales of family idyll
we dont want yer ego tripping self aggrandizing bullshit, kilbey!
just gimme some troof!!
just tell it like it is you father christmas look alike
ex sikedellic paisley totin’ nitwit
it was like this
i justa smoked this big fat numbah
i picked up my 7 thousand dollar bass
and i plucked a detuned f#
outta time

112 Responses to “winterlong”

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