having an argument with myself down elizabeth street
bumping into backpackers and struggling with the perimeters and the basic construction of my feet.
kicking beercans and rubbish along the concrete
crossing the street, a-crossing galaxies of taxis and backseats and drunk swedes and halfgreeks
shut up, no you shut up
what’s the matter, take it easy buttercup
everytime i hear you say fuck it
i will remind you of the photo in your pocket
how long it’s been there? two years i bet
have a sniff it’s gonna smell like cigarette
and when was the last time you smoked a cigarette ?
and more importantly who did you smoke it with ?
having an argument with myself down victoria street
passing the markets now, the windows and neon illuminating my path to defeat
your grinning face scaring a poor parakeet
your heavy breathing scaring the wind so rich on summer and so sweet
fuck you, no you fuck you
you didnt come here for nothing did you ?
i know that’s what you’ve been saying lately
but let me draw attention to exhibit B
a honeysuckle in a plastic envelope
and put that flower underneath a microscope
see what’s written on the petals
look closer, that’s her initials
having an argument with myself down queensberry street.
the lonely light from the townhall clocktower, the chime of the bell striking one, two, three
and it takes shape in the form of an image, in the form of a living memory
the way her shadow used to walk by your side in a different time, a different city
oh please, no you oh please
i wanna see you drop down on your knees
i wanna see your hand waving farewell
why are you hitting yourself ? why are you hitting yourself?
History repeats itself twice said Marx
First as tragedy, then as farce
But where did i find the source
to make history of a love, a love like ours?