Small flat, inner west,  

Guilt money lights the walls  

They ask questions,  

Cause the look don’t fit right

  

Own it?  

Yeah!  

But not going there

Opal tap says go, metro drum says maybe  

Inner west windows cough TV light into the lane  

My mates set up at the pub, kick, bass, guitar,  

Good times for the most part, thin ice  

I want more than good times,  

Shame climbs the throat

The Con sent a disagreement,  

Didn’t shake my hand  

I answered with a downstroke  

Call it less than polite, fine,  

I learned counterpoint in the mess,  

Pushed it down the line

Sydney seems to want me still, it's a joke  

Can’t maintain the fill, too much inner spill

Could catch a long flight in my head, never come back  

Or find a side door in this suburb, make it famous  

Safety net looks soft until it knots around the ankle  

Love my band, love inner west life, hate the thoughts

They plug in, I tune within, feed back the dust  

We hit first song, the floor nods, few but loyal  

They want me grounded, I keep tasting runway  

Guilty for the thought, guilty for the wish, still mine

She’s from the Con, quiet eyes, wrong light  

Men watch me like I’m that,  

Then get the stare, read the tell,  

See the gap, walk it back,  

Now sing it with me, unmark that trap,  

I’ll unpack the noise, sing what we can’t

I try not to hurt those who helped with a steadier will  

But I won’t stay still, to maintain the fill

Could catch a long flight in my head, never come back  

Or find a side door in this suburb, make it famous  

Safety net looks soft until it knots around the ankle  

Love my band, my inner west life, hate the way my head talks

Side street coffee steam, memory set on sill  

Click, a photo for a future me, set on the sill  

Emails from overseas, maybe if you scream brighter  

I write back, maybe if you can stand my light

I don’t owe a thing for the payments  

I don’t owe the city a softer version  

They'll know my why if I leave right  

They’ll hate my question if I stay wrong

What I want, line of sight, drop the key, drop my fear  

She feels my switch, lets it be, I note the catch  

The rest tilt toward yes as if it’s the same breath  

I give them a brand new ending they didn’t ask for

No encore, just a click off and a stare  

They hear it, that’s farewell, without the sell

I caught a long flight from my head, maybe I’ll be back  

Not going to find a side door in this suburb  

Safety net holds the still like a knot around the ankle  

Loved my band, my inner west life, but my head would spill

Sold the matchbox flat, expensive sill  

I packed too little, took too much  

Text the band, I’m on a plane  

Best friend, she already knew

Might not work, but can’t have the question  

Either way, I’m making a story, not my bed