EVERY WEEKEND written by James Parry
Everyone I know
Does the same thing every weekend
The men down Lockhart Road
Living lies in their suits and ties
They make like its more than a game
Tales of glory
Peering out on the grass
With their minds in the past, now
Get me out of here
I was in need of the feeling of that gold
But I couldn’t shake it; my father mightn’t make it alone
Holly, how you’ve grown
From his friends, then I’m on my own
A corner of the room
With a view
That they hardly use
A break in the grandstand, through
Tiny towers
Glinting like the brass on the rims of the old man’s glasses
Get me out of here
Free of the distance of the harbour, how it glows
Somehow it pulled in the sun through a gap in the clouds
I pace the oval slow
Through the crowd
I’ll try and dodge the girls
They’re talking boys
I turn to an odd surprise
Oh my
Where the cars blow horns as the football flies
There’s one I recognise
She’s got her hair up but I can’t mistake those eyes
Seems like she she’s hanging around more than I realised
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