A man with amazing boots is on the tram, as the tram sits by Eureka Street, full of peak hour gold diggers.

This morning a little boy is childhood’s hot air balloon, his mother says “sit down” but he’s rising up to the heavens

Of course we all know shit happens

I might be a lone wolf, but some she wolf sits beside me, twirling her long, blond hair with her fingers,

I was always taken by the singers, and David Bowie is literally telling secrets in a moving picture in the window of Liberation of Art.

Does he know something I don’t?

Now the girl gets off with her ‘Stay wild gypsy child’ canvas bag, walking in the light, Summer rain that’s a Firefighter’s wet dream.