A dragon with the head of a bulldog, A mountain with a crop of white snow, A blue sky over Glenorchy, And I've got nowhere to go. I didn't ask for your name little sister, I didn't ask for you to come through the door. I dreamed of a face, a curtain of lace, An apple that had no core. A tail with the girth of a fat man's thigh Slid up around the corner and was burnt upon my eye, A winter light confused my sight in Glenorchy tonight When I thought that I had nothing to see. So I asked the lady at 13, Invalid at 32, With a bottle of red, only fresh from bed, By the letterbox. She thinks she doesn't see The things I think I see, Blind by 11 and wearing her dead mother's socks. Alright I was hiding in the Swan Terrace garden, I saw the to and fro-ing, come and going of the street, There's not a lot of doing in Glenorchy of a Tuesday, Shivering I accepted my defeat. But as I rose up ginger I was arrested by a sight That flickered in my periphery, A reflection in a Hillman Hunter window, I saw that the creature was me. Now the heart of a monster is the heart of a child Who never had to grow into a man - If nobody could recognise the Bunyip of Glenorchy, Then wherever there's a monster no-one can, Then wherever there's a monster no-one can, Then wherever there's a monster no-one can.