Friday, January 27, 2017

Kit Kelen #388 - Amnesia Day

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 –
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? 



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