Having an argument with myself down Elizabeth Street
Bumping into backpackers and
struggling with the parameters

and the basic construction of my feet

Kicking beer cans and rubbish along the concrete

Crossing the street and crossing galaxies of taxis and
backseats and drunk sweedes and half-Greeks


Shut up, no, you shut up!
What's the matter, take a number, Buttercup!
Every time I hear you say "$#&@ it"

I would remind you of the photo in your pocket

How long it's been there, two years, I bet

have a sniff, it smells like a cigarette
When was the last time you smoked a cigarette?
And more importantly, who did you smoke it with?


Having an argument with myself down Victoria Street
Passing the markets now, the windows neon illuminating my path to defeat

Your grinning face scaring a poor parakeet
Your heavy breathing scaring the wind


So rich on Summer and so sweet

$#&@ you, no, you $#&@ you!

You didn't come here for nothing, did you?
I know that's what you've been saying lately
But let me draw attention to exhibit B


I stuck it in a little plastic envelope
and put the flower in a neon microscope

See what's written on the petals
Look closer, that's her intials


And now I'm walking by Bev and Mick's backpacker hostel on Victoria Street
Where it's reggae night tonight
And the backpackers are pouring out like a tidal wave of vomit

I have to sit down on the curbside and count the coins in my pocket

See if I have enough cash to take a taxi home

No
Alright, yes, can we just try to figure this out?
Can we just talk about this, please?


Nah, I don't wanna talk to you
OK, you wanna keep fighting?

Yeah, I wanna keep on fighting
Alright, fair enough


1, 2, 3, here we go!

Having an argument with myself down Queensbury Street

The lonely light from the town hall clock tower
The chime of the bells striking
1, 2, 3


And it took shape in the form of an image in the form of a living memory
The way her shadow used to walk by your side

In a different time, in a different city

Oh please, no you oh please!

I wanna see you drop down on your knees
I wanna see your hand waving "Farewell"
Why you hittin' yourself, why you hittin' yourself?


History repeats itself twice said Marx
First as tragedy, then as farce

But where did I find the source
To make history of a love, a love like ours
A love like ours