we fought your wars with all our hearts
you sent us back in body parts
you took our wills with the truth you stole
we offer prayers for your long lost soul

…

there is no flag that is large enough
to hide the shame of a man in cuffs
you switched your signs then you closed the blinds
you changed the channels and you changed our minds

Now I don’t know what stopped Jesus Christ
from turning every hungry stone into bread
And I don’t remember hearing how Moses reacted
when the innocent first born sons lay dead
Well, I guess God was a lot more demonstrative
back when he flamboyantly parted the sea
Now everybody’s praying
Don’t pray on me.

What if everything around you isn’t quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection, is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks?
Would you find yourself, find yourself afraid to see?

yesterday was Melbourne Cup day. i know this because of all the people that were in the TAB (around the corner from my work) before lunch, because of the lady who was wearing a fascinator in the lift in my apartment building, and because one of my suppliers who’s in Melbourne was shut for the public holiday.

my personal viewpoint is that i think gambling is uninteresting and potentially dangerous, and horse-racing is cruel and pointless, but i don’t care if people bet on the Melbourne Cup - it’s just that i’m not interested.

but it’s another one of those fun situations where people start a conversation with me about something, i say i don’t do it / watch it / know it, and they’re so quick to say how they don’t either … “except for this one time”.

it’s exhausting having to deal with everyone else’s insecurities on top of my own.

anyway, so in honour of Gambling Day, i’m posting some lyrics from Crown Tower Blues by Root!

I’ve got the blues, Crown Tower blues
Ain’t got no shirt, ain’t got no shoes
Well these people here, they treat me fine
They bring me beer, they bring me wine
Well I’m going back - to my family
I left them somewhere in carpark level three

Do the stoney brokey, spent the kids’ school fees,
Loan defaulty, kneecap injury,
Foreclosed mortgagey, wife takes the family,
Skid-row society, help police inquiry,
Month in solitary, rim job sodomy,
Chemical dependancy, Brotherhood bin residency
End of the ropey swinging blokey
Hokey pokie, yeah
… that’s what it’s all about

The only thing worse than bad memories
is no memories at all