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jerk--y

mov--ie

of a

grand

ole

op--'ry

house

being

de--mol--

ished

by exp--lo--

sion

fall--ing

slow--ly

among

the ru--ins

of a Eur-

o-pean

ci--ty

surrounded

by

reporters

and TV cameras

and protestors

from all over the world

...

then she kisses me

...

and I blush

from my toes

to the roots of my hair

...

and she whispers

in my ear

with enough breath

to make my eyes water

...

'You, know'

she says

'You've

aww... lll... ways

been my favourite'

...

then she squats beside me

wobbling

like a gong struck in a temple

and holds me tight

around my waist

and stro-o-okes

my hair with

a hand that also

holds

alcohol

...

oooloooloooloool

...

and proclaims to the world

I mean,

everyone in the party

50 adults

and one

of my brothers

'My special frien--d

Dy--lan

will now perform

his ren-di-tion

(in his own words)

of Austra--li--a's

na--tional anthem

...

before I can escape

she reaches

the baby grand

piano

my father

keeps

but has never played

since Mum

went to India

...

and strikes a chord

arpeggio

...

I don't want to do this

but I can't control myself

and stand

and draw my breath

while all around

the cocktail conversation

and the mathematical laughter

dies down to

a tinkle

and

Madam Joy plays

the introduction

that I like

and the chords build up

and I sing... 

 

 

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