(From the perspective of a Lifeguard
at the mythical Nimbin Heads Surf Club)
Hey man … they’re surfing off Nimbin Heads,
And they’re as cool as they can be,
Riding tsunami of toxic psychoses,
On boiling seas of apathy,
Undercurrents of chronic substance abuse,
Try to pull the swimmers down,
While sandbars of shifting tolerance,
Tempt the unfortunate to drown.
The most common flotation devices,
Can be purchased each day on the street,
From both legal and illicit outlets,
Some blatant … and others discreet,
Every morning the sharks begin circling,
Waiting for their prey to arrive,
Then feed on the flesh of the surfers,
So their raging habits can thrive.
The Albatross of Drug Law Reform hovers,
But never quite manages to land,
While good citizens voice their outrage,
And then bury their heads in the sand.
Undercover cops try to mix and mingle,
In order to entrap an arrest,
But stand out like lily-white flesh on the beach,
For the first time being put to the test.
Like stormy seas crushing lives against rocks,
Storm Troopers enforce bad Laws,
And they’re prepared to break Laws to enforce them,
What a farce … what a Police Force!
Meanwhile … breakers of reality crash downwards,
Some in too deep for their limited skills,
Broken lives … shipwrecked on the pavement,
Wiped out on Heroin, Alcohol or pills.
Throughout the ebb and flow of public opinion,
And the passing of pointless day after day,
They’ll keep surfing off the heads in Nimbin,
Although … the Coast is more than an hour away.