so many levels
so many sobs
i weep for lemuria
i weep for atlantis
i weep for a little boy crushed by a truck
at the bottom of baines place in the sixties
i weep for a boy i saw once with no ears
i weep for myself because i'm old and washed up
i weep for you because of your isolation
i weep for the finders and the keepers
i weep for the ugly awkward ones who need love too
i weep for frustration and self loathing
i weep like a willow
i weep into my pillow
some melancholy that i follow
has left me feeling so hollow
so i weep for the sleep that will never come
and i weep for the people
i never met n will never know
who might have loved me as a friend
and been my solace in this 21st century
because i'm not at home here
i'm on the lamb in these days
trying to lay low
with occasional bursts of transcendent prose
kilbey is mad
i dont think so therefore i'm not
madness has no glamour on me
ill-starred maybe i am
but still clean
still sharper than one micron
still unbowed before the wall of sludge they call fun
i hate fun as a concept a justifier
i dont make music for fun
i dont write this poisonous bilge for fun
i hope you have some fucken fun reading it
but i dunno about fun
i'm burning up with some terrible malady
my eyes can hear the future clearly now
is that a symptom of my fever?
if you wanted
i could imagine something fantastic for you
or instantly write you a song
about how cool you verily are
my instruments are arraigned about me
the muses hover at my fingertips awaiting instruction
a wonder to myself
i pluck my loot
i bang on my base
i drum up some thing
i enter the studio
i fling violins at people
i murder the engine ear
with a conductors baton
i hammer the faders home
i turn red and i yell at the music that does not transcend
transcend what ? gasps my stupid laptop
transcend this fucking mundanity! kilbey shouts
i am an alien
i am on the wrong planet
i dont wanna waste my precious time being here
who am i? i screamed into the e-void
and answers came back
you are this
you are that
i love you
i hate you
i do not care about you...
i turned trembling
the doctors had shrugged
the lawyers shook their heads
the generals turned away
the actors were merely actors
the leaders all stood behind us
only the poet dares to go there
where where where?
(the clamouring voices)
there is where ecstasy and sorrow collide
in some contradiction
a poet will suspend you vibrating
to some new groovy truth and....
i'm giving away the trade secrets now
where was i
i weep for um.....how does cauliflower sound....?
....no no...uh..i weep for uh....concupiscence ....uh..
yeah ...thats better.....oh look a glimpse into my brain...
oh...is that how he does it, dorothy?
guess so harry guess so
oh look no on a mat appear
oh no look theres a cute little allusion
oooh hes a clever olde bugger dorothy
ooh hes a bit of a treat to us olde deers
oooh dont know why he aint as rich as bohno hughson
oooh my daughter valerie went to school with him
what she say then
hes an arrogant SOB on every level!
whats a sob?
its a little cry or gasp
how many levels are there, dorothy?
many many many, harold, many many many
how strange life will be for kilbey i still be saying
poor olde steeve he never gets it , right...?
look its a new church album.....
whats that all about then?
i bet its got some nice new songs on it
songs about the time
songs about the distance
songs by the man in his mansuit
songs of hiding and pursuit
songs of gliding and gah-loots
songs about other songs
i sing the causal and astral bodies electriques
i sing a certain song you have been waiting for your whole lives
here dive in
there are many songs
many new songs
all songs are guaranteed to contain LOVE
all songs will last n last n last
all songs guaranteed to make you sob
all songs contain traces of music
all songs contain traces of ancient greece
all songs contain traces of arrogance
all songs contain traces of ....mystery
mystery baby oh mystery
dont you love a lover a love a love a mystery
dont you just wanna loose n lose n loose yourself
in a good mystery
well my songs got it! he says triumphant
voice in next room says :jerk!
voice in another room : get on with it
am i mad? its a mystery
am i sad?
its a mystery
am i really so fucking bad?
its a...ha ha..yes ...yessa ....mystery
what will ever make me glad?
its a mystery
government warning :
these songs will make you wish steve kilbey WAS the p.m.
government warning : kilbey is an icon
he needs considerable repair and reconstruction
DONATE GENEROUSLY TO THIS BLOG
or risk total isolation
cos if this man goes down
you will be all alone
a kilbEy less world
youre on your own now
are you imagining it?
a world devoid of ME?
oh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
(this blog is suddenly interrupted by a knocking)
its time to go on....
mr kilbey its time to fucking go on now sir
mr kilbey wake up youre having a bad life
mr kilbey the orchestra is waiting
mr kilbey the audience are patience (or patients?)
you are an arrogant SOB on every level
and its been a pleasure to know you sir
good luck sir
bon voyage sir
over n out sir
into the ether
i commend my spirit
spirit come n take me now
spirit come n fill me now
wonder what the weather will be like today?