Australian Literature

Feb 24, 2008

We don’t need to pick up the pieces
We’re too innocent to think of why
Your intentions too clear for me to see
It’s sixty-one after midnight

There’s a coffee stain on my computer
There’s no sense of sanity left
Being redundant in insecurity
Tell me martyr, what happens next?

‘People are strange when they’re alone.’
Ugly faces you’re gonna fall for
‘Too err is human, to forgive divine’
Make it last, then drop to the floor.

These walls are paper thin, lined in red
There’s no danger, there’s no resonance
It’s too easy to tell you evil persuade
Yet I’m not begging for innocence.

Are you innocent?
We’re not innocent.