Grendel playing the banjo. (click for full size)
And so I was back on the dole. My old friend and home and I resolved to make it my career. I packed myself off to the country and lived in a little shack on a remote farm picking olives and playing football. Away from stress my music returned and I began to write songs again. "Ah Euterpe. How I have missed you!"...
Laharum. Surrounded by the ill-educated, the narrow-minded and the xenophobic. The idiot football culture. The lack of understanding. The ostracisation. The community closed ranks against me.
I loved the bush of the Grampians and spent many days exploring the sandstone mountains and learning the species. But the heat! So many HOT days in a row in a tin shack... An ordeal! When my time was up I moved to Portland.
Portland! A welcoming town with a thriving arts and music culture. I fell on my feet. I sang! I wrote! I discovered the banjo! I played electric guitar again! I made friends! My star exploded in an unparalleled burst of creativity. Again I felt the world was my oyster. Soon I would take my place in the firmament of humanity. Soon...
I was wrong, of course, but first there was the scourging of the unemployed. For being the lowest of the low I was punished, hauled over the coals and subject to absurd strictures and demands in order to hold in my hands the weekly stipend that barely put food on my table. I had to sell my beautiful car which ruined my beautiful love affair due to the tyranny of distance.
I reacted to the mistreatment from the government with anger and defiance. I skirted the bounds of criminal action and was banned by the main agencies in the town. When you threaten a monster's livelihood he becomes desperate. Why is that hard to understand? When you can't afford to eat, the law becomes secondary! Almost I was banned from the last candidate before they put me in the too-hard basket and left me alone.
And there I remained: Too hard! Uncompromising. Untrusting. My back to the wall. Secure in my castle. My works in my hands. My genius in flower. My goal in my sight. The toll of doom now my theme song.
Fuck them all!
Life on the dole is tough,
I never have cash for stuff,
but there is just enough,
just to survive.
I can't afford a car,
that's just the way things are,
but I am fitter by far,
'cause I don't drive.
Hardship!
Stops the materialist,
fosters the true humanist,
far from the business payroll.
Humble!
Here I have all that I need,
here there is no place for greed;
ascetic is life on the dole.
Life on the dole's a fight,
they'll call you a parasite,
but you can serve them right,
by taking their tax.
It's hard to attract a femme,
'cause you can't support them,
but where they would else condemn,
you can relax.
Conscience!
How can I take what they pay,
unless I give back in some way,
all that some think that I stole.
Worthy!
I know the work done by me,
merits this strait subsidy,
otherwise known as the dole.
Life on the dole is grand,
time is at my command,
I wield with artful hand,
talent unwalled.
He that for rich man's pelf,
slaves like some mindless elf,
cannot fulfil himself,
if he is called.
Freedom!
Not all fit in the mainstream,
some of us follow a dream,
outside the set protocol.
Accept!
We are a part of the whole,
and since we can't pay the toll,
ours is the life on the dole.