I think Linklater said it best
That movie went straight to my chest

Dress up when you’re feeling down

thanks to Keegan

Old Roald
You are gold
Or so I’m told
Your books fold
At night it’s cold

he wasn’t always bald
but the pattern was in the mould.

he had no toupé to hold,
but a newspaper he rolled
which he bought (i’m told)
with the money from the books that he sold.

with sales to behold
and people we polled
loved the stories retold
by old Roald

no home
no job
no love
no ties that bind
nothing to pay off
no gigs left unplayed

that’s it then.

I just want to go home
Please hurry up the plane
And hurry up these people
And hurry up the baggage
And shrink down this walkway
And kill the people ahead of me in the line
And get that taxi here already
I just want to go home

One day we should record our conversation
Hours and hours of human insight
So I can listen back to it when I’m not in town
And not have to rely on memory and imaginings
Of how you might cut me down
Or how I might cut you back
And how we can smoke by the Yarra
Have coffees til midnight
And discuss the deepest darkest subjects
At the top of our lungs at a dumpling resturaunt
As others look at us wondering if we’re really
Talking about the nature of criticism
Or my theory of boys and girls
Or depression, death and deathly,
And how you have a crush on me
And we can cast two really good looking people
(one choice each of course)
And we can send the tape to Richard Linklater
And show him how it’s really done
Because for four hours we barely took a breath
And you were so right so often
And we truly listened to eachothers points
And everything is perfect the way it is
And everything is where it should be.

There is no one on the streets
They are digging the trams out of the trenches
And there isn’t a car anywhere
So it’s amazing to discover
How quiet a city can be

You know that time when you said to me
“If you need someone to talk to…”
And I brushed you off because I didn’t know you
I’m sorry

Cos maybe I could be there for you now
Maybe it’s not too late.
We’ll talk when I see ya.
If I see ya.
We can talk about death and loneliness

Cup of tea
And Simon and Garfunkel
On a rainy day
I pretend that my apartment is in New York
Where the men in checked pants
And moustaches older than me
Sit and play chess
Old Italians with accents
A trendy couple on holiday
Are getting blown away
By movie references on every corner
Uni kids reading poetry
Discussing Frank Lloyd Wright
Using ideas as their maps
And I am of the intellegensia
Of the young minds out to change the world
Through perception of generations
Cos the ideas come from the young

I woke up from a dream where you died
And I saw you on TV
But not your face
And I couln’t get to you
I didn’t even have a number
Or a language

Is ignorance bliss
Help me please miss
I’m not on the list