The Apocalypse on Wurundjeri Land

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lyrics

No lights on my bike, riding High St in Northcote
I’m happy to fall, but I’m never willing to forfeit my time
So in the shadows I build my own 86 line

I’m at the thousandth outpost lamppost
Shining white into dark places
I breathe, dismount and park it
Smell the carpet from the Social Club
There’s heat from the feet of almost everyone I know
And the walls that surround us all are asbestos

Our voices and ideas congeal, the froth from the tap is real
My tongue bursts its bubbles at a slump on the windowsill
Looking out at everything still
And I’m imagining me as myself in my own biopic

I’ve never seen Mondegreen pull any punches
My hunch is, you’ll throw up jazz like an early breakfast
If you know how to listen
Now it’s 9.59 and time to find cracks in the wall of noise


I yell abstractions from rental homes
Vacuums, inaction for charity
It’s finally mine to swallow


Now it’s after 1, and you can’t get food that isn’t kebabs
Old mate hands me a parcel - another fucking falafel
As dry as the marble into which they carved their words
I’d misheard a songline, so did this country:
‘I just needed you to feed me’

- a mondegreen from its namesake
I was as hungry as an earthquake
So I heard what I wanted to, put burners on the back of you
And started charging 12.50 for toast you can make better at home
But I was never alone here
Now it’s the 228th and final year

And they’ve put an 8 Bit Burger up in Little Saigon
So your kebabs are competing with Yves Saint Lauren
Until the whole world looks like North Fitzroy
But what’s gentrification to First Nations?
And how can I complain about the Smith St stain?

I’m warm, found God
In the hull of the ship that brought booze and bullshit
Her majesty, your travesty
Your creations, adaptations, encased in the land
On which I now stand
Watching the band
But I won’t listen
I won't listen


Cos I yell obstructions from rental homes
Vaccuums dysfunction in anarchy
And now it’s mine to swallow


The heat from the earth
The dust from the walls
The Kulin clock hands
They read, ‘It’s time’
The apocalypse came
A serpentine stream
It fed on its tail, we’re back to a dream

And I can be anything yes?
Tram is derailed, wind and the hail
We can be everything’s entity yes?
Club falls apart, we can restart
You can see I can be more than this business
We’ve been there, it kills us
There’s cracks in the concrete
The waves of reality crash into industry
Where are you? We can feed
Frantic in fractures
Collapse of my structure
My bike’s got a puncture
I cry out for Bunjil

credits

from Pucker Lips, released October 28, 2016

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