So far from here, and yet — like moth to flame, that alien world of drought and indifference. Where days are so bleached by light, they're burnt in my eyes at night.
An abrasive scrubland of parching wind and ultraviolet radiation; A tinderbox of accelerant and fear of phantom smoke; Where fire sired eucalypts, wilt in midday sun; And browning leaves are falling but Autumn is not calling.
Out there is the Eastern Brown and the red-stripe snake and spider; Out there meat ants strip carcass to bone and six-foot rats are bipedal; Out there swarms of fly plague the shade and cicadas sound like a siren.
Out there in the never never, out there is peace, for people do not dare. And so like vampire I hide in lair, until stars we stare. Such is summer for sinners. Beware. Beware, we convicts out there.