Robert Adamson - Meaning lyrics

A black summer night, no moon, the thick air drenched with honeys**le and swamp gum. In a pool of yellow torchlight on a knife-blade, the brand name Hickey Miffle— I give in to meaninglessness, look up try to read smudges of ink a live squid squirts across the seats – now the smell of the river hones an edge inside my brain, the night sky, Mallarmé's first drafts. Who can I talk to now that you have left the land of the living? The sound of more words. The moon rolls out from the side of a mountain and I decide to earn the rent; the net pours into a thick chop, a line of green fire running before the moon's light – does four-inch mesh have anything to say tonight? The mulloway might think so if they could – Ah, Wordsworth, why were you so human? On Friday nights I fork out comfort, but tonight I work with holes, with absence. I feed out a half-mile of mesh pulling the oars; this comes once a life, a song without words a human spider spinning a d**h web across the bay. Alcohol, my friend my dark perversion, here's to your damage: who do you think you are? My mother the belly dancer, my father Silence, my house that repairs itself wherever I go.