i grew up by the great western highway on the train line i used to count carriages of coal trains before i heard of cannonball and coltrane i was playing ball games i f go to sleep on friday night praying that it wouldn t rain dad built a b ball hoop then flew the coop while us kids fought like troops and mum was the truth i can t believe i threw my sister through the front door i learnt my lesson well before the triple 0 call and on the tapedeck by brother had control getting schooled by him proper in the cold wenty falls flannelette and skateboard foggy wet weekends funny hour a four litre cask makes you see friends parties at the park and drunk tagging state rail smoke through empty cans of coke when all else failed wilin out on muck up day turned it into muck up night cause school didn t seem to care if we were fuck ups right we were blowing off steam still not even 18 floating somewhere down stream with a vague dream if could change an hour maybe i d move a minute however many lives i ve had i m only just beginning i learnt a few things along the way try to keep em front and centre with me every day all the rest can and will for away hold tight who you love and let the rest fall away don t look back hoping for the same cause from where i ve come i ve changed how to explain the hundred lives i ve lived and the thousand more i ve craved in my happy younger days i was a blank page in an empty book i recal l that naive innocence of childhood never really was wind more a quiet one grew into a shy teen that didn t seem to smile much took off for south america at 17 became a sudaco punk in skinny jeans there i learned what passion love and friendship really means came home to a cold cold world that i couldn t really feel i was not the same disappeared into a purple haze of weed smoke and drum bass couldn t seem to find my place then i did at uni fighting for causes we reclaimed streets and taunted police forces had my heart broken so bad it left my head swimmin proceeded to take it out on a few good women lived fast and reckless trying to outrun the sorrow like there was no tomorrow but inside still hollow then the mic came and saved me centre stage became a place to vent my rage cyphered and time and went for days staved off cynicism with wit and rhythm a hundred lives and counting a hundred to be written  