A fun way to spend a holiday for those people
interested in fulfilling violent fantasies
or on the edge.
Hunters of the end of the world
break the land.
Crash through lignum.
Break the open throat, draw out breath.
The dream of life
disappears through an open mouth
of a dying animal.
Not a pretty sight.
But you don't want to eat it
being too well fed.
You just want to cut it down
to size for fun.
You just want to
break down the life & make it horizontal
over a few beers.
Then stand on it with your big fat boot for the shot.
More killing for the kids
across the land that thought it was dead.
But that now wakes, to shake the dust off.
As the back of Bourke lights up
for interactive tourism.
We thought those fuckwits
only came from Cobar,
but they're from everywhere.
The ones that get dressed up
in feathers & army greens
for a day off the bitumen.
Dad said, "They confuse me,
they ride motor bikes
& drive four wheel drives,
wearing boots & spurs,
& cowboy hats.
Mummy's boys most of 'em.
It's all for show.
Big notin' 'emselves in town.
Then home, in time for tea, with mum."
