Dick Diver Hammock Days
I am a rose waiting for the sun
Waiting to bloom into some trajectory
Naturally, I'm after success
To glide through social gymnasiums
Shinin' like the [?]'s new double [?]
We've been wearing T-shirts for days
Bird shit splats into a southern cross
And ambition descends like a mosquito.. out-manoeuvred
Lemon rot stains the brick work in the yard
Another arvo makes it's way over a barbeque
Another dusk congeals into a glut
And through a screen door
A TV, a TV, the TV blues the room
Night ambush, the ultimate chorus
This, this is the sound of a million guitars
And I love that you would laugh, tease or, better, sing
And I'm so good at entertaining conclusions
Naturally, I rely on things