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lyrics

Tiresias the TV ain't no good for you or me. I'm bored to death, plug me into psychic channel three. That mouth don't know the words but it oozes pure symmetry. I lap it up, embraced by your technology.

In a car, strapped in, and braking hard. Across a crowded room where lots of people stare and starve. But under starry skies, I'm short of breath. There is a light, walk on in wolfish steps.

Drowning I said (or words to that effect), in semaphore - This is the noise of wanting more. I forgot to tie the rope.

Let's charge a glass to your heat, recall an ocean bliss deep. Unstitch my stoic seams.

Capsized in time's tender streams, visions of locks and their keys. Unstich my stoic seams.

credits

from Born to Hustle Roses Down the Alleys of the Dead, released January 1, 2002

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Knaw Brisbane, Australia

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