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Are We The Bad Guys?

from Subtropical Metropolis? by Rivermouth

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lyrics

I woke up in the park
Musgrave
and instantly felt unsettled
the once-familiar surroundings seemed strange
creeks and hills remained where they'd always been, and yet I saw them differently
like my eyes were out of focus
like a photo of a painting of a photo
as though looking from above, I saw
that the oldest, largest trees
had once been planted in the shape of a union jack
gunshot echoes on the breeze
that below the park's manicured green surface
the soil was stained blood red
the beast was over-fed
wailing curlews were the ghosts of the dead
and the skeleton hanging near the toilet block had shackles around his ankles
and the name of my grandmother's grandfather was engraved on the rusted metal
I saw then that my shoes, family heirlooms passed down through generations
were made of human leather taken from that same hanging skeleton
and this is relevant, this is present-tense, and most of us are in denial
how many Murris do we lock away, charade of a fair trial?
I never pulled the trigger, but I inherited the gun
and now I can't quite figure out how to get this taste off my tongue

Are we the bad guys?
maybe I don't want to know the answer
sins of my ancestors
perhaps best to avoid the question
walking with closed eyes
now where the hell would that leave us?
our own history books deceive us
retelling little white lies

Bloodstained soil, bone foundations
bloodstained soil, stolen generations
bloodstained soil, murder for profit
bloodstained soil, but we don't talk about it

Removing my tainted shoes, I found the ground rocky and uneven
across the park I saw a Murri woman being dragged by two policemen
her cries for help went unanswered
more coppers arrived
swarming
circling, predatory
they too were wearing shoes made of human leather
but seemed oblivious to the origins of the skin
hobbling, barefoot
I could do nothing to stop them
they took her away to die
and all I could do was film it
they took her away
and all I could do was capture it on video so that future generations might see why we burn that flag burn that flag
burn that flag
burn that flag
the woman's children were removed by child services
despite grandma's pleas
meanwhile the ABC dutifully commemorated the anniversary of the apology
with a “look how far we've come” retrospective
over at the airport, more shoes made of human leather were distributed to new arrivals
as long as they brought enough money in
then all us non-Indigenous activists staged a protest
but the cops diverted us down a side-street so no-one saw it
it didn't make the news cos the footy scores were important
the Musgrave woman is a statistic now
brushtail possums still whisper her name
and everywhere is mirrors when we try to find who's to blame

Bloodstained soil, bone foundations
bloodstained soil, stolen generations
bloodstained soil, murder for profit
bloodstained soil, but we don't talk about it

Now us inner-city activists
with a sticky quandary to ponder
neither immigrant nor Indigenous
this dissonance is mischievous
the river is murky
the banks are unstable
and we built this city
we built this city on stolen land
the backs of slaves
unmarked graves
and now each year on Invasion Day
when the young warriors scream “who owns this land?”
“we do”
“who stole this land?”
“they did”
I don't know what to say
cos i'm descended from invaders
but I know no other home
I've got nowhere else to go
no land that I can call my own

Are we the bad guys?
no-one wants to hear the answer
we cheer the murri dancers
but turn away when they start talking sovereignty
are we the bad guys?
I begin to think we might be
this city has a dark history
but it's the present sins that worry me

Bloodstained soil, bone foundations
bloodstained soil, stolen generations
bloodstained soil, murder for profit
bloodstained soil, but we don't talk about it

I fell asleep in the park
Musgrave
but all my dreams were depressing

[Interlude]

There’s a gentle orange light that seems peculiar to our town
unless you've lived round here you won't know the light I'm talking about
a warm pinkishness that makes you wonder if you might be looking through a veil to another kind of city
you should see it when it hits fallen jacaranda blossoms...
it’s almost sacred
but unless you’ve been safely inoculated
this otherwise pure light has a sinister tendency to infect with forgetfulness
those who bask in it too long start to remember where they came from
as the city grows
it devours yesterday
swallowing history
obliterating different pasts
and different tomorrows

credits

from Subtropical Metropolis?, released May 15, 2021
Written and performed by Rivermouth
Recorded and mixed by Luke at Hunting Ground Studios
Mastered by Matthew Gray Mastering
Artwork by Anna Carlson

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Rivermouth Brisbane, Australia

Hi, we're Rivermouth
Our vocalist is a cross between a typewriter and a megaphone. Our keyboardist is a classically trained virtuoso mad scientist. Our bassist plays in the Richter scale. Our drummer's great-grandfather was a metronome.

Our music is a blend of spoken word, hip hop, jazz, reggae and excellent chai. Lyrics are critical. We want to tickle cerebra and tug heartstrings simultaneously.
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