Just a bit of contrast for you guys in the alternate hemisphere. No white Christmas here. It’s 38C (100F) and the ocean beckons.

But …. to get into the spirit of things, here’s ….

A Christmas song written and performed by a friend many many years ago

In light of recent tragic and shocking events here in Oz I have chosen mainly to remain silent, but this video says what I might say, but far more eloquently.

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For no particular reason.

Just trying to get our minds off things – things like Bondi Beach and racism and guns and hate. On a day when nothing makes sense this song doesn’t either.

Maybe it means that there’s no shame in not being heard, that your own truth need only be audible to yourself. No one should have to listen.

***

Achievements? Zero, No-one’s hero

no applause, no fame, no glory,

I walk alone, without a throne, a song without a story.

No magic cape, no great escape

Credits fade to black

No blood’s been bled, just look ahead

No point in looking back

 

I told the truth, back in my youth,

With no-one there to hear.

Now as a ghost, my only boast,

Is ‘no-one’s lying here’.

 

No speech, no toast, no lies,

no slender alibis

It comes as no surprise

No-one laughs and no one cries

No cheering crowd, no grand parade,

The shadows fade, no life’s been made

 

I told the truth, back in my youth,

With no-one there to hear.

Now just a ghost, my only boast,

Is ‘no-one’s lying here’.

I tried to stand, had nothing planned

My only grace, an empty space

Nothing to fear when nothing’s clear

‘Cause no-one’s lying here

***

 

 

 

Track three (recorded only this morning) takes a slightly different direction when dealing with an old seminal work …. this one, I think, another of Alisha’s mad ravings.

A slightly punky rock vibe felt better than the country blues style the band has previously adopted. And my singer went back to rehab, so had to source another.

The less audible the words, the better the song.

**

 

 

you can call it privilege

i can call it a curse

this consciousness, this being here

Is getting kinda worse

fighting foreign feelings

stuck inside my head

up and down this see-saw

where angels fear to tread

 

you call it beauty

I call it hell

The fire burns inside me

But I can’t endure the smell

Inside my head a prison

can’t escape myself

wish I was an object

Just sitting on a shelf

 

 

i’d rather be a vegetable

i’d rather be a rock

i’d rather be a glove

i’d rather be a sock

won’t be coming back here

if they offer this again

i’d rather be the words

than the hand that holds the pen

 

 

 

 

I’m not the girl that he saw

Lying in his bed

I’m not the person you knew

I’m someone else instead

Yes it’s true, I’m feeling blue

In a  world that’s turning red

Quite disturbed by what I heard

Or by what i might have said

 

I’m here again, back on the train

Back into the rut

One day I’m a princess

The next day I’m a slut

I’m coming to the party

I’m in my party frock

I’d like to be your lover

But I’d rather be a sock

 

 

i’d rather be a vegetable

i’d rather be a rock

i’d rather be a glove

i’d rather be a sock

won’t be coming back here

if they offer this again

i’d rather be the words

than the hand that holds the pen

 

consciousness is overrated

being human’s complicated

give me simple, give me dumb

make me thoughtless

make me numb