Sunday, March 05, 2006


Weddings, Parties, Anything

WEDDINGS PARTIES ANYTHING is one of my favorite bands of all times. They are an Australian band that I first encountered via a very poorly made cassette that the brother of an Australian boyfriend sent to us (sorry for the ridiculous run-on sentence). I haven't listened to them in quite a while. Tonight, I was hanging out with an Australian friend of mine who we henceforth will refer to as Waltzing Matilda (Is that okay, honey?). Anyway, we reminisced about younger, wilder days, and I played my favorite melancholy song of all times. This is the song I want sung at my funeral (no, I'm not planning on it being anytime soon). I imagine people swilling guiness and jamesons with a tear in their eye as they listen to it. I went on line to look for the lyrics and found this...

Sometimes you can say more, in a drunken hour or so
Than some people get across, in a life of lying low.
And sometimes you can feel more, for someone you've barely kissed,
but you don't see it at the time, and the moment that you've missed.

For a short time, she was standing there,
and you saw her, she saw you and you recall the colour of her hair.
For a long time, you never thought of her,
Then you heard she was gone for good,
You might have cried then if you could,
Would have looked foolish if you did, somewhere
The tears are falling in your mind,
For a short time.

There's a photo of your gang, on the night she hung about,
and you're looking like a wag, you've got your fat tongue poking out.
But she's no-where to be seen, you won't spot her anywhere.
It was her who took the picture, you were looking straight at her.


Tell me how long is a short time, is it longer than two hours,
Or a bit less than a weekend. Is it shorter than a year?
Is it the time it takes to not complete your business with a person,
With a friend you make in transit,
to a daughter held so dear.

That was the total of the lyrics on the internet. However, there is one final verse on their final live cd "...they were better live..."

Faces come and faces go, in the ragged life you lead
And you just file them all away, and recall them as you need
But when a face just disappears, you report it as a crime
Against yourself, against teh world
For a short time.

It draws a tear to my eye. And I'm drinking a Moretti.

That sounds like an old Scottish tune. Sniff.
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