1. |
Cleaning The Dishes
05:02
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I'm feeling like,
I'm a nuisance a lot of the time,
And I'm sorry for,
The things that I do.
I apologise,
for drinking all of your wine,
You can steal some of mine
Anytime, if you want to.
I've been cleaning the dishes,
But I'm not doing it to be nice,
There's an evil part of me,
Doing it, out of spite.
For lately, I guess,
I've been a little sad,
Increasingly stressed,
And I'm sorry for,
Taking it out on you.
I'm sorry for,
The things that I do.
I've been craving sympathy,
For someone to sit down,
And talk to me,
But how can I expect anyone
To be nice if I'm not nice to them.
I feel like an upset child
Being mean to his friends.
I've been craving sympathy,
For someone to sit down,
And talk to me,
But how can I expect anyone
To be nice if I'm not nice to them.
How can I expect anyone
To be nice if I'm not nice to them.
How can I expect anyone
To be nice if I'm not nice to them.
How can I expect anyone
To be nice if I'm not nice to them.
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2. |
Morning Coffee
03:03
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3. |
Rosemary Mushrooms
06:21
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It's three o'clock on a Saturday, stumbling through the city,
Feeling drunk from all the car fumes and chain smoking ciggies,
We are searching for something, not quite sure what it is,
We just roll around in the car park getting high and then
You kiss me on the cheek and run away, down a rusty alleyway,
I sit here and look around, you come back and sit down,
And we stumble through the city till rather late at night,
Getting hj's getting drunk, trying not to get in fights,
So we caught the train to Freo, at one thirty am,
The Kebab shops were all closed but seven eleven sold bread,
So we head on down to south beach, for a swim, for a feed,
Look in your backpack, find a can of baked beans,
And we tear into the tin, under the intimacy of stars,
And I saw your soul my darling, heard the sound of passing cars,
Melt into a sweet cacophony, the ocean and my breath,
And in that beautiful silence, you got up and left.
So I finished all the bread, and I scraped up the beans,
And I walked on my own to my house down the street,
And I kicked off my shoes as I hopped into bed,
And I thought about you and the things that you said.
And I slept and I slept, for a very long time,
Till my back grew sore, and my bed grew tired,
And I woke in a sweat, and I called out your name,
And I wonder if you're somewhere doing the same,
Or am I just a self deprecating, obsessive piece of shit.
I apologise for my language, sometimes I'm a bit
Over the top in the morning, when I get out of bed,
I am tired, I'm hungry, I'm all out of bread.
And after a long day, I come home once again,
I throw down my bag, and I grab out the bread,
That I bought at the markets, where I played today,
I was begging for money, for someone to stay for a while
And just listen, to the words of my songs, tell me I'm worthwhile,
That my existence isn't wrong, make me feel useful, make glad to be alive,
I guess it's no wonder I sing all the time.
So I put the bread in the toaster, and I turn on the stove,
I cook rosemary mushrooms with two garlic cloves,
I get out a couple of plates, a couple of knifes and forks too,
I was eating alone, but I was cooking for two,
Just in case that you happened, to pop on by,
Oh if I had food ready, perhaps you'd stay a while,
But I ate and I ate, whilst you meal sat there,
Getting cold getting sad, and I sat and I stared,
Then I cleaned up the kitchen, put your plate away,
covered it all up in glad wrap, just in case,
That you decide to come over later, for desert and red wine,
You could take your meal home, eat it another time,
But I realise you are not coming, I never even invited you,
It's probably good you didn't, I probably would have just frightened you,
I mean how can I love somebody if I'm frightened of myself,
I need to take some time off and think of my health.
I need to go see the dentist, and get my teeth fixed,
I need to speak to a psychiatrist, get them to pull all the sticks out,
From my eyes and my ears, all the bugs in my brain,
Needa take some time off, to feel like myself again.
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4. |
Broken Thumb
05:12
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Australia, I wanna love you,
But you make it so damn hard.
Another day, sleep in late,
Here I lay and there you are..
White washed news,
The sunrise crew,
Bicycles and passing cars.
I walk to the kitchen,
The house is empty,
The sink is full but I'm ok,
I what I say as I water the plants,
Listen to the wind dance,
Through the branches of a
Big old tree.. it all feels so strange to me.
And I broke my thumb, being dumb,
Riding bikes got drunk last night,
Played a gig, had a swig,
And I thought I felt alright,
But then this morning, laying in bed,
My thumb was bigger than my head.
And I didn't know, what to do,
I lay there and thought of you,
About my mum so far away,
Skipped uni again today,
Call in sick, tell a lie,
Feel like I'm wasting my time.
So I called my dad, we had a chat,
It was nice to hear the crackle
of his voice, gently, saying that he misses me,
And all the things, we used to do,
And I said dad I miss you too.
So I scroll though facebook, my news feed,
And I can't stand the things I see.
Tells me more kids should be taken away,
They want to repeat history,
Take everything, one's ever known,
Another child without a home.
Taken away, torn apart,
Thrown in the back seat of a car.
Australia, I wanna love you,
But you make it so damn hard.
Australia, I wanna love you,
But you make it so damn hard.
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5. |
It's So Pretty Out Here
05:19
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I don't know who I am, I'm not even sure where I've been.
Well my life is a big old artwork that nobody's seen.
I've been drifting through walls, my hair is all goin' white.
And I still have no bloody clue what to do with my life.
So I unlock the house and I drift like a ghost through the door,
And I walk just to see what's left just for me to live for.
And I walk to the park, and the grass it's so green.
Oh it's the most beautiful god damn park that anybody's ever seen!
I hear all the birds they're singin' so sweetly in the trees,
And the stars hum along to the sound of the rustlin' leaves.
And it's so pretty out here, it's so pretty out here,
It's a god damn beautiful night.
There's a billy in the playground and there's children with smoke in their eyes,
I call out to them, say, hey, isn't it a wonderful night!
They walk up to me and they ask, old man, what's ya name?
Oh! But every time I move my lips they say I'm insane!
So I say goodbye to the children but their heads are up in the clouds,
And I drift back into songs, of moonlight and treetops and owls.
And it's so pretty out here! it's so pretty out here!
It's a god damn beautiful night.
So I unlock the house, and I drift like a soul back inside,
The clock is still ticking, but I guess that just means I'm alive
I open the window, I lay down and close my eyes.
And I hum to myself, what a god damn beautiful night!
And it's so pretty out here! it's so pretty out here!
It's a god damn beautiful night.
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6. |
Prime Minister
03:34
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You're called our Prime Minister, but you're not really ours.
You're called our Prime Minister, but you're not really ours.
When you're sitting in your office or you're sitting in a bar,
I hope you're thinking of the people that you're pushing into harms way,
Stay, a little while sir, let me pour you another drink,
Let the whiskey warm your cold soul just enough for you to think,
About Nauru Island up in flames, Manus island up in flames,
About mouldy bread and burnin' kids and all the horrid shame.
I hope it keeps you up at night, I hope ya can't sleep at night,
I hope it slowly burns away at the cold soul inside.
I hope you're frightened of your future, hope you're frightened of our voice.
I Hope you're frightened of the ten million Australians who will rejoice when you are,
Thrown out of the senate, on to the cold hard floor.
I hope you're thrown out in the rain and ya watch them lock the door,
I hope ya forced to eat at soup vans, in Fremantle square,
So you can ask them how a hundred and twenty two million could help 'em there!
And when you're walkin' through the city streets, late night past all the bars,
Stumbling through alleyways, cigarette ridden paths,
I hope ya look up the night sky see it written in the stars,
I hope it's shouted from the rooftops, and every fucking star,
That you're called our Prime Minister,
But you're not really ours.
And when you're walkin' through the city streets, late night past all the bars,
Stumbling through alleyways, cigarette ridden paths,
I hope ya look up the night sky see it written in the stars,
I hope it's shouted from the bus stops, and every bloody car,
That you're called our Prime Minister,
But you're not really ours.
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