A song i made after eating Midis Mums delicious garlic bread.

Ya Mums Garlic Bread

Stacy had a disease that no doctor could describe
She had no clothes on when she was born she had none on when she died
Uncle Patrick was a veteran of the Great North War
He came over Stacy’s house, Stacy said ‘What did you come over here for?’
Patrick said ‘the priest has died, haven’t you heard?’
‘The procession starts tomorrow, I reckon the only audience will be the birds…
…because its coming out all over town, every little evil deed
from the butcher to the barber shop that man was a bad seed.’
‘Oh God, that’s terrible’, said Stacy (she was being sarcastic)
She looked out the window, feeling fantastic

Sunrise on Main Street, its deserted except for Tim
The full-time scab, you could make a living off beggin’ back then
Stacy mosies on down the road she’s feelin’ confident, she’s feeling cautious
What she saw next would have made anybody else completely nauseous
She just smiled and three fresh bodies dumped in a ditch
The vermin had come for them, the crows would be next
She stared down at their faces, like a mother does a new born child
She recognised them: the altar boys
She got a kick out of their innocence being defiled

Stacy ran grinning all the way to her mother’s home
The cattle paid no attention, their eyes like stones
She broke in like a madman, eye’s wide, hair wild
Her mother wondered how she’d given birth to such a child
Dad walks in, wipes his pants
Stacy claims to be the victim of strange circumstance
She keeps up ravin’, about the ways of men
And then she threatened to go out beside the lake an’ jump in
Mum says, ‘Sit down Stacy, let’s have a chat’
Stacy says ‘There’s nothin’ I’d prefer less than doin’ that’

Enter Uncle Patrick, he walks right in
With a bright red nose and a beard on his chin
Patrick said to Stacy ‘There’s a warrant out for your arrest’
Stacy’s heart beat slow behind her ribs, inside her chest
She gets up from her kitchen chair, walks toward the bench
Pulls out a knife from there and slits her mother’s neck
Now Father had not panicked in the flood of ‘74
He did not panic now, he stood still on the floor
And Stacy stood there starin’ she was feelin’ kinda bored
Uncle Patrick tried to keep quiet as he made for the door
Patrick made a run for it- you couldn’t say surprise
In the time that it took Stacy to throw a vase between his eyes
Patrick on the porch, bleedin from the skull
Stacy wondrin’ when murder had become so lifeless and dull

Dad’s face was sad and for a sec Stacy did not move
The moment was worthy to be painted and hung inside the Louvre
Stacy hurled abuse across the room but it did not stick
So she took out her father’s ankles with one sweeping kick
She slapped his face, as though he was her bitch
His response was less dramatic than if he’d had an itch
Stacy lost her shit at this she started stabbin’ him in the chest
Then she jumped up and down on his ribcage like a boot stomps a birds nest
Walked outside cut off a washing line wire thread it through his nose til it came out his mouth
Then she pulled on both ends and pried his jaw completely out 

They found Stacy’s body in a lake not far from her home
She was floating there, facedown amongst the foam
Stacy had a disease that no doctor could describe
She had no clothes on when she was born, she had none on when she died

Stacy

Why don't you miss me?

Peaceful the World Lays Me Down Lullaby

Sore Loser

“It’s not a cut, it’s just a shave
It’s not blood, it’s just the pain
Coming to the surface of your skin
When you feel the walls keep closing in…”

“It ain’t the burn, it’s just the flame
It’s not the world, it’s just your brain
Picking up on the cycle of this hell,
Just keep smilin’ man, you’re doing well!”

“But all I see is red & white and blue,
When all I want is black and white and you”

Why can’t we just have nice shit anymore? Maybe we never did?
I don’t fuckin know. I don’t think anyone knows. Or if they do, they’re either hiding it or lying about it. 

Those small moments with the people that you love. Like, ACTUALLY love. Sitting. Talking. Not talking. Drinking tea. Drinking 7 bottles of red wine and smoking 27 cigarettes. Shots of tequila on a sunny afternoon. Looking at the news in disbelief AGAIN. Sunset on your front porch with an out-of-date beer you found in the back of your fridge knowing you have $1 in your bank account, and it being OK for a fucking SECOND before the noise kicks in again. Car is out of rego. Licence is suspended cuz you didn’t pay the fine, your car being on the street and out of rego. What the actual fuck.

What’s the point? 
There is no point. It’s just the same shit over and over, again. 

But it’s not that. I mean it is, but it’s also not that, at all. Two truths can exist in the same world, like many versions of ourselves exist in every single decision we make and therefore every millisecond of everyday. 

The calm and the fuckin chaos. Are you allowed to have both? Are you supposed to? Gimme something black & white. Gimme something simple for once.

Black and White and You

Cut back

My friend (and son) Sungy gets too comfortable with how he addresses me (his dad). Sometimes... just shut da mouf.

PSDM (Sungy Diss)

More Rural

That's Entertainment

By Ol'mate (Me) Lyrics:
Verse 1
You told me something in confidence and i grew a little over confident.
I wish i knew then as i know now what that really meant.
'Cause now there's so much drama. I guess they call that karma.
'Cause it was what i did that got us in the state we're in.

Pre-Chorus
Excuse my Ignorance, it's not a plea for my innocence
Excuse my ignorance, 'may have been dropped as an infant
Excuse my ignorance, it's alright if you think me an idiot
Excuse my ignorance, it's not a plea for my innocence (cause)

Chorus
I'm not a good friend, assume that i'm at it again and
(I'm) not one to depend on, always seem to get it wrong
And I'm sorry my friend (I) can't say it won't happen again 
i'll do all i can do to make it up to you
You'll see, i'll make it up to you (repeat)

Bridge
I would rather for you to not trust me, and for me to prove you wrong
Than for you to trust me and for me to let you down
I would rather for you to not trust me, and for me to prove you wrong
Than for you to trust me and for me to write this song (to Chorus)

Stacy

SAINT // BOGAN

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