Kit Kelen #388 - Amnesia Day

388

Amnesia Day

there are days you could forget your disease

and some have never known

it must have been quite a blow on the head

to stagger with so stupidly

as if I had been led

it's left me with some certain things

and I know what is mine

let's not let the others in

they're always looking for a way

so jealous!

why can't they fend for themselves?

they can just fuck off

we celebrate this day together

no one's sure which day it is

who can recall the year?

can you remember how we got here?

forget who's the place was before

that can hardly matter

and anyway they're gone

or else they must have melded in

I wouldn't trust the bastards though

the playground's all ours now

Christ it's dry

in beer we trust

in spirits and in wine

still the name of a country creeps up

and when it's freshly ironed

you'll salute until you're silly

sing as if the words were yours

the anthem and the war and which

and whose and when and why (?)

none of these are questions really

it might as well be the cat's birthday

love to watch puss chase a mouse

and corner it and play

sit back and drink – we're up for a party

to slaughter, baptism and blood!

we can call it barbeque

we little lambs

are led to love

and smell that flesh to flame

a thirst!

don't sigh at me as if I'm dumb

I have a vote as well

and eyes off, gaarn, fuck off again –

this sausage here is mine

under the bonnet of my beast

a miracle brings me about

I've heard of a bloke who understood

but no one knows the weather

it's pretty well the same with food

you pick it off the shelf

it must have somewhere before

it's just the same with clothes and haircuts

some come like Christmas, dead of night

but I'm too busy to believe

I have an idea what day's now

and how to get to work

but not today

today's Amnesia

I'm blind with it as well

that waft of singed fleece

it's familiar

yes that's right

it's barbeque

does this country have a name?

well we can make it up –

let's say 'south' so no one knows

and that will be a secret

where were then we before we woke?

of course it's impolite to ask

foreigners have no manners

in beer we trust, in spirits, wine

in pills prescribed and otherwise

all the cash that's in my pocket

all the cash that's not

I wonder where it's from –

results!

they keep me on my toes

and I feel it in my heart

this land I know is mine

Christ I was so out of it

no idea how I got home

and dry in the morning!

what a mouth I had

give me a sea to girt

who wouldn't party for all of this?

who wouldn't sing along?