Mother Mother Echo of Ratzinger's shudder Diseased and twisted and raving Evil clown and jewel in the Vatican Crown Your words are fucken disgusting Brother Brother Tongue of your mother Impervious and so immune Your brain is, so untouched by logic, science and art You're such a cold-hearted crucifix operator Father Father You stupid mother fucker You've fortified yourself with George Pell and his theologians Your brain is shut tight, it's buried in Catholic shite She speaks and you sew your mouth shut

Beads of sweat run down the hourglass Time is runnin’ out from behind these prison bars I signed regicide and I stamped it with my name Bein’ free is bein’ King but I signed it anyway And now I’m locked behind two walls and lace runs up her leg Her dress is creeping up her thigh and up over her head Grab the ravens like grabbin’ runnin’ sand Slippin’ through your fingers and its rainin’ red sedans Her eminence supported on her heels Six inches above the ground and coke under her nails Crawling all along the ground in leather instead of cotton Black strap lass and drippin’ in satin, the kinda girl who’d wear a black dress to a wedding

Sunset dusty clouds on empty hollow bricks The Duchess missed the train and hitchhiked there instead Stiletto wine and bullets dressed in jaded suede Septumal intrigue, The Trinity Tirade The culprit bed and the King of May The Queen of Cups and the nun’s stockade Distorted church bells and stale walls In decaying silence, the pillar falls The collar undisturbed, dust cloud on the bookshelf Torn jeans on the ground, a badge crashing down the staircase Tombstone humour, musty air, pink, white, bleach and charcoal hair An afternoon October stare, Eighteen years parole impaired Bedroom whiskers, marionette, Razor blades on a silk cravat Lace arrest with cigarettes, Empty wine, Eve on my lap Vigil every day, anticipate the foliage Letters in red pen, signed with husky voices Shattered fingertips on hips Stockings made of Buddhist licks The guillotine met the preacher’s head Her tie came off beside the bed Lines of Dante swill the night, sweat dries under a yellow light Half outside and half-undressed, half in love and half obsessed My agency went to my head, politics concerning beds In 22 years a life found end, because of that a life began And what I found in a quarter day was libertine and a castaway A thousand nights in chastity, two lunar circles set us free And in the scriptures on my back I found I’m baptised in the mass And in the birthmarks on my neck I found my lineage so far back So back In the libertine aristocrat

Born on seven continents One hundred and ninety-eight countries All at once Cigarette between his finger and his thumb Four thousand years of human history 24 rotations round the sun Played a page of Nero’s orchestra And then he sang a song It was the Universal Aria And he preached to a mahogany tabletop On which sat a plate of ordinary figs And the sun rose on a blonde home Giving homage to a temple and a smile of straight white teeth Adorned in a long green jacket And a viewing of La Haine and a roadtrip round the world And I survive on an Ethiopian wallet and the lessons I was taught By a boy with a badge in his heart and a love for reform With reformation in his heart The light within his window means he’s home For a break From overtaking Western ministries Eight thousand kilometres to a surgery For the Aboriginal Race Then to the national Parliament to end an era of disgrace And my memory recalls a certain late-night shopping trip Spent in a parking lot mall across three names And every day on the 86 line I pass a government dump Testament to a state crime And everyday when I pass that land The building where he lived gets knocked down in my mind And every time I’m on Swanston Street I remember the crowds and the blonde’s fist in the march For everything he hated And everything lost And everyone he knew this country’d forgot For everything jaded And everything decayed For the 21st century delayed For fighting at the steeple and for Fighting at the house For fighting in the streets at the mind of a mouse And the last time I saw him at a house under siege And the last time we spoke eating duck with the Queen With a fight to the end in a straight jacket ward Breaking his heart every day against an Australian Court And I’ll cry every day for the rest of my life I’ll miss you when I’m old I still think of you at night

You fall asleep in a piggy hotel On the back of ‘Bleach’ and Irvine Welsh Cause Matthew, Mark, Luke, John and Giddens fucken lied I dig your house it’s a fucken nice home I hear your Ma’s suburban lock and load Is the white picket fence out front import Wallachian pine I still see steeple swords Attacking lower house law Why haven’t we cut the fucken cord Seventeen in a Leeton high school Taught by Rohm, part time host playschool What do I believe? Why the fuck should we have to be nice When some among us don’t share the same damn rights It seems to me I don’t owe no apology The burning bin on Elizabeth Street Pointed to a biblical defeat The needle in the class of 1989 Nevermind the refugees in John Howard’s administration They found their own Karma Sutran lines Dreadnought Maggie’s housewife tabloids Daughters Cleo, Dolly and Boy’s Toy Bullshit primetime ‘Triumph des Willans’ Try bein’ my colour in Cronulla When all your friends go home and watch ‘Airport Sec’ And Kruddy-love expects us all to integrate “No fucken Kashmir in my club” “Don’t make me call security, Vic Thug” Who shoot dead teenage boys in local parks Government cock-knuckle contradictions Interstate civil war mongering frictions Julius Streicher politicians Livin’ in a bedrock nation state of Burning beds and racist sexist Redneck arsehole population Suicide in old sheep stations Women with black eyes in waiting Counter-action education Fireballs at Frankston Station One Nation capitulation Lead us not in to temptation Late night paddy wagon transportation Sleeping in a suburban police station

I’ve got no more time for you Cause everythin’ just moves too fast And I’m treadin’ on a footpath That reminds me of a face Of everyone I knew Blood ain’t on this page And the leather pen just dries and cracks And like an ice-cream in a kiln I feel I’ve melted you away And I don’t wontcher back And now I’m on the train back home I’m tired of mediocrity Torn between fireworks and boredom Wedding rings and drunken orgies And I want it fucken all I’m a letter in red pen A salmon in my stream I’m a selfish mother fucker And I’ve taxed myself to death My hobbies’ burnin’ Queens Coal fallin’ from my mouth Pretendin’ ta be diamonds Wrapped in cookin’ foil And splittin’ at the edge Wither poison leakin’ out And now I’m breakin’ down my walls They builtem outta sandstone blocks And they’re filled with stained glass windows Weddings rings and crucifixes And rosary beads around their necks Exhausted from the search Ta find the perfect sentiment Pancake infidelity ate on Southern picnic grass to the tune Of Dale’s shredded voice I’m a bandit on a train I’m theft, I’m generosity I’m a virgin, I’m a deviant In Greensborough at 5am And I’m suppressin’ all the pain And now I’ve slammed shut all the doors On my church and family On obedience, subordinance Sobriety and monogamy And the Wagga corridor Chrissake I’m nearly nude And I’m standin’ in the dock With 7 billion judges And one big fucken worm And I’m still feelin’ hot I’m sleepin’ in two beds And both have different names Ones’ jaded and decayed Ones’ apple-fucken-tini And both suck at charades I’m dyin’ for one tree And I want the other dead So I’m gonna close my eyes Pick and climb one to the top With a rope around my neck

Goodbye to the sky You left without a fingerprint on anything And you glided through the halls And your feet didn’t touch the ground And you stopped all the wars in a pretty thick storm Leaving jingling bells and an empty cup of tea Thank god for the peace The world has just become a coin And with six or seven names Came the cost of all my ease And a pretty big hug in a limbless abyss And a kiss that coulda bought a galaxy And I guess I’ve been stuck trading living for life Like an empty bag or a boring suicide And I Yes I’m alive again And I Yes I’m alive again You’re not without a flaw But you’re not without a thwart But you don’t care for weights There ain’t no writing on the wall In this existence where eternity’s gone And a god can’t live but I hope you live so long Be a mother to me, to my kids and theirs’s too Be a teacher for us mortals see us through And I Yes I’m alive again And I Yes I’m alive again Goodbye to the sky You left without a fingerprint on anything And you glided through the halls And your feet didn’t touch the ground And you stopped all the wars in a pretty thick storm Leaving jingling bells and an empty cup of tea And a pretty big hug in a limbless abyss And a kiss that coulda bought a galaxy And I guess I’ve been stuck trading living for life Like an empty bag or a boring suicide And I Yes I’m alive again And I Yes I’m alive again And I Yes I’m alive again And I I I I And I Yes I’m alive again