Bloodlines is his third album, and features arguably his best known song 'From Little Things Big Things Grow".

This is the Song Cycles (Kev's own record label) reissue.



Freedom (Carmody/Willoughby)


Human freedom’s fundamental….and justice a right
Equality’s that thin line between wrong and right
When the Earth is denuded, her creatures oppressed
Then justice and freedom are put to the test

We say freedom, freedom will come….welcome freedom 
Justice, justice will come….welcome justice

Freedom equality and justice are one
If we resist then justice and freedom will come 
Freedom will come

The womanchild….the Motherearth
The land, the law, the human birth 
The spirit child within my womb 
The cycle of the autumn moon

My being’s my spirit the land is my law 
The industrial savages
Keep the oppressed so poor
Resistance will break the stealth eagle’ claw
Peace is much more that the absence of war

The manchild….the Motherearth
the land, the law, the livin sun
the creatures and the living plants
all cry out as one….they chant freedom

reach out for peace
embrace human love
our global brothers and sisters
shed generations of blood
freedom will triumph….justice endure 
when we struggle united, against every war




That corporation built a reputation
By condemning a living generation
Without shame or compensation 
To death by asphyxiation
Every time they breathe a breath

Corporate white death
Every breath
Corporate white death
Every breath
Corporate white death
Every breath
That white death comes with every breath

Our childrens’, children live and breath
Our future is what they believe
If pain’s the price of victory
They should know we paid the fee 
They should know just why we bleed

Powdered white death, every breath
Powdered white death, every breath
Powdered white death, every breath
That white death come with every breath


Rider in the Rain


The road’s called "Progress Freeway"
Runs from Oblivion to Nowhere
The six lanes run forever 
You just face ahead an’ stare
Across bridges of illusion
Through them tunnels of despair
No time to wait….it’s far too late
The fear’s already there….the fear’s already there

Composite….an opposite
A number on a name
The inferno’s fire is bein’ fanned
The freeway’s engulfed in flames
No detour round the furore
Satan occupies Canaan
An inflictions….contradiction…. 
You’re just a rider in the rain…. 
Rider in the rain
Runnin’ in the wrong lane
A rider with no name 
When you don’t know you bein’ framed
You just a rider in the rain
Runnin’ in the wrong lane

Thunder through the midnights
Hailin’ rain keeps beatin’ in
For the riders there’s no shelter
From the howlin’ driven wind
Beside the freeway in the darkness
Are the monuments to pain
Beyond are the hidden tombstones
Where the wreaths of peace are lain
Where the wreaths of peace are lain…. 
Outside in the rain

Truth eludes the reptile
Prophets preach to empty caves
Inquisitions execute the healers
There’s nothin’ left to save
Except the inertia of the Freeway
An’ the riders on the run
Look behind see that "Freeway’s Time"
Is driven with a loaded gun
It’s driven with a loaded gun
Keep you on the run


The Messenger


Fly messenger fly….on the wings above the sky

The wingtip of the albatross, creases the mirrored waters
Between the swells in the vastness of the Great Southern Ocean
In that winded expanse and ice-so-lated chill of the Roaring Forties 
Above the darkened depths, this ancient messenger forever
Wanders the oceans of this Earth

Through storms and tempests….across aeons of time
In the wilderness and solitude of polar moonshine 
On the wings of the Spirit the Messenger flies
Through the limitless silent infinity of the imagination
Fly messenger fly….on wings above the sky

The messenger roams the realms of the seven seas
Across oceans of human indifference, watching the ecology
Fall and flee before the economic onslaughts
Of the new technological barbarians, who value destructive
Death above the pricelessness of rebirth
And returning relays the message to the saddened ancients
People of this Earth


The breathless beauty in the twilight of each day 
The magic of the midnight autumn moon, in the brilliance of
The Milky Way
The majesty of the Universe beyond all human worth
Through which the Messenger soars suspended in the sacred 
Cathedral of this Earth




We walked this land, from the time of the Dreaming….when the Wind,
the Tree, the Mountain, the Sea Waters
Were not yet our reality
We come from the cradle of the cosmos
Our Mother….the Earth
Bestows on us
The fruits of our sustinance
In our veins….run the Waters
The Seasons
The Sun….The Moon 
The sap of the Tree
The rock of the Mountain 
The chill of the Winter Wind
Our Spirit….
Is forever
This is 




Chocolates, roses, kisses, zits to hide
To copulate most males bribe
Warm fuzzies. Gentle care
Expensive cars, pubic hair
Parties, alcohol, domestic fights and incest
Adolescent, hot fast, messy sex.

On the southside, darkside
South of the freeway them Logan kids
Use to hang out in that trashed out Rooster & Ribs

Fast food, junk food, foul, food, chunder
McDonalds, Kentucky, rail line thunder
Tavern drive-in, ya buy the piss
The grog we flog, they’ll never miss
Poor behind, square one, it’s hard to start
Five fingered discount from the rich K-Mart


Fish smell, cabana, burnt out shell
Rooster and Ribs is a scene from hell
Broken plaster, fibro, power cords
Hangin’ down….to the burnt out boards….
Dope an’ drugs keep ya stable….
Couples screwin’ on the table


Most night ya screw or fight
Girlfriends, boyfriends, use the night
Hid their reality from society
Only place you can feel free
Moans smashed, glass, trashed out spew
Shit-hole smell, rat-shit view


Graffiti, the neon cut the night
Blue light flashin’, hot spotlight
Siren wailin’ squealin’ tyre 
Time to change into overdrive
Batons, handcuffs, they carryin’ guns
Cops have arrived, it’s time to run



Sorry Business


Ooh, now he’s gone, my brother he’s gone
Sad sorry song, cause he be gone so long
Sorry business come with the mornin’ sun
Sorry business, the hit come with the morning Sun
Now he’s gone

Sadness blow in with the evenin’ wind
His spirit’ll blossom, like the wattle in spring
Mystic lightening….the rain come soon
Wipe the sorrow from the face
Of the risin’ Moon

Lightening flash….on the gibber plain
Desert land bloom….the Lore stay the same
That Law here to stay 
Sorry business come with the mornin’ sun
Sorry business, the hit come with the mornin’ Sun
Now he’s gone

Steel grey new moon….death comes to too soon
Cry my tear….lost a brother so dear
Sorry business come with the mornin’ Sun
Sorry business, the hit come with the mornin’ Sun
Now he’s gone




They come over from their landscaped
Northern richlands 
To drop out in our wastelands on the south
Project their leftist leanings on the radio
Their upperclass attitudes eminate from 
Their mouths

He got a Phd in his-story
She an expert in Marxist ideology
Joined alternate groups at university
They don’t see we see the same old story

Bourgeois, drop-out progeny
Still tryin’ to construct our baseline reality
Like their generations before ‘em
Still operates these gates here on our pig-pen

Espousin’ Liberty, Fraternity, Equality
Equal rights, Latin American solidarity
They choose to drop-out and change their course
Not realizin’ the baseline don’t have a choice

From progressive avante-garde bands in the city
As artists’ they dictate what’s best
Seizin’ every chance in their alternate advance
We just see they’re featherin’ their own nests

Sometimes the needle hits the hammer
The body and the brain take heavy blows 
They purchase drop-out fashions from our
Eat organic food from land their forebears stole


Living South of the Freeway


Logan city ain’t it pretty?
Logan city what a pity
That we’re livin’ south of the freeway

Rich up north….poor down south
Rich live up there in their expensive house
Livin’ south of the freeway

Rip off a car….save you a walk
Can’t afford to buy, like the rich up north 
You counted out down here before you’ve fought

Sux-gas, flash, backflash, bash, crash, smash

Just enough money, to go get pissed
Thieve off the rich here, just to exist

Got no phone, got no home
Rack my clothes from the Hyperdome

Cloned, postponed, disowned, methodoned, stoned
Logan city….loaded with stops
Down on the southside, we cop the lot


No name….cocaine….lame….game….same
Livin’ south of the freeway….livin’ south of the freeway


On the Wire


He came back from the city
I say "cus’ where ya bin?"
He says "Brother I been livin’ on the wire
Lived down in that gutter where the fittest survive
I ploughed through them fields of fire
Had a needle in a vein, that profited the sane
Had a friend with no name who was a liar
Saw the white walls of freedom, never found the black door 
Saw the Devil sing with the Angels in a choir….Sisters….

We’ll take you home to the land we know
Give you that peace of the evening
Give you that moon with the wind on your face 
The rains and the change of each season

I saw people who were trapped
Under the whip of fat cats
Saw people there devoid of their Dreaming
Deep down inside there with so much to hide
Brother you could see in their eyes there’s no meaning
So take me my sisters and welcome me home
So I never again walk alone
Our spirit demands that we die in this land 
And I know now my spirit’s come home

I says, ‘Brother what you see in this land of "Progress"?’
He says, ‘I never felt them four winds a blowin’
Lived with people in chains, the wounded and lame
Heard Messiahs who spoke without knowin’
And them seven seas rose and the desert lands froze
Each individual there was trapped in a prison
And my spirit cried out, to know what it’s about, brother
Their basis had no rhyme or no reason


From Little Things Big Things Grow (Carmody/Kelly)


Gather round people I’ll tell you a story 
An eight year long story of power and pride
‘Bout British Lord Vestey and Vincent Lingiarri
They were opposite men on opposite sides

Vestey was fat with money and muscle
Beef was his business, broad was his door
Vincent was lean and spoke very little
He had no bank balance, hard dirt was his floor

From little things big things grow 
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

Gurindji were working for nothing but rations
Where once they had gathered the wealth of the land
Daily the oppression got tighter and tighter
Gurindji decided the must make a stand

They picked up their swags and started off walking
At Wattle Creek they sat themselves down
Now it don’t sound like much but it sure got
Tongues talking
Back at the homestead and then in the town


Vestey man said "I’ll double your wages 
Seven quid a week you’ll have in your hand"
Vincent said "uhuh, we’re not talking about wages
We’re sitting right here till we get our land" 
Vestey man roared Vestey man thundered
"You don’t stand the chance of a cinder in snow." 
Vince said "if we fall others are rising."


Then Vincent Lingiarri boarded an airplane
Landed in Sydney, big city of lights
And daily he went round softly speaking his story 
To all kinds of people, from all walks of life

And Vincent sat down with big politicians
"This affair," they told him, "it’s a matter of state
Let us sort it out,…. Why, your people are hungry!"
Vincent said, "no thanks, we know how to wait."


Then Vincent Lingiarri returned in an airplane
Back to his country once more to sit down
And he told his people, "let the stars keep on turning
We have friends in the south, in the cities and towns."

Eight years went by, eight long years of waiting 
Till one day a tall stranger appeared in the land
And he came with lawyers and he came with great ceremony
And through Vincent’s fingers poured that handful of sand


Now that was the story of Vincent Lingiarri
But this is a story of something much more
How power and privilege, can not move a people

When they know where they stand….
When they stand in their Lore….

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow


An incident of structural racism occurred at Queensland University on 21/9/87 where 3 MURRIE (Aboriginal) students, of which I was one, were forcefully barred from attending a free public lecture by an emminent academic at Mayne Hall.
The lecture was part of a series conducted each year by a quot;Christian" residential campus college for males.


Revelations Addendum, Chapter 23 Versus 1-35


The first human reactions are ones of
anger and shock, at once again being 
excluded by those that fear what they
cannot comprehend.

Now in retrospect we are deeply
saddened by what occurred to us.

The mentality that closed those doors is
the same mentality that sanctioned the
rise of Hitler; that perpetuated the reign
of Stalin; that forged the sword for
Caesar; that fashioned a crown of thorns
for a young Galilean carpenter; that has
banished and excluded our people for
200 years and denied us our sovereignty
in our own land.

Are we still to be made to stand in silence
outside your door? To be made to wait
patiently and uncritically for the crumbs
to fall from your plethora of plenty?

Those that excluded us are; spiritually
Impoverished; the intellectual Herods of
this technological age; these self-appointed
censors wish us to hear only the voice of
the Pharisees and the High
Priests, those that reinforce their position
of privilege, power and prestige

The economic and social structure over
which they preside, is at all times savagely 

When will we drive these seekers of
mammon from their temples of power?

When will our voice from the wilderness
penetrate the inner sanctums of their spirit?

When will their selfish, self-centred
creed of Greed be held accountable for
the oppression it produces?

For as the reptile grows fat on the flesh of
it’s victim, so too, do they, on us.

They are an arrogant, vicious elite, whose
position means power, and whose power
means position.

This nexus they reinforce with their bible
of deceit.

They worship the golden calf of
"progress" and "development"

Their lot is overdeveloped only at the
expense of the poor.

It was they who closed the doors on us;
the ones with the closed cognition; those
with closed hearts; those with the
psyche devoid of tolerance and

Those with the HOLLOW, WHITE

Those, the elite that stand upon a past
legacy of leg-irons, chains, whips,
prisons, poisons, genocide, fringe-camps
missions, reserves, in this our sacred land.

Those who do, and will, masquerade as
the respectable knights, judges
statespersons-the accumulators of
wealth and power, those, who in reality,
are totally and covertly corrupt.

They; whose Western, economic world
order, like its sister system Communism
oppresses, dispossesses and subjugates
countless millions for the benefit of the
power elite.

They who utilise the sheep’s clothing of
"Christianity" to mask this Western
economic ANTICHRIST that they foster 
with missionary zeal.

When those doors were closed on us, the
power elite’s subliminal guilt and spiritual
paranoia was once again openly
displayed. They fear the TRUTH
embodied in us; the indigenous people.

The salient Truth manifest in Our
Principles; Our cause; Our struggle;

Our culture; Our heritage; the Mother
Earth; Our spirit; and indeed in our
Reverence and gentleness towards
All Creation.

We will endure beyond this, the second
millennia, to infinity.

This we know

Our cause is Just, Our sovereignty is

The educated elite that are drawn from
the ethnic European majority, know
this and therein lies their reason for
closing the doors on us. They stole this
land and grew fat upon the illegal and
immortal profits it produced. They
dispossessed us in our own land. We as a
people are saddened to the point of
compassion for these superficial,
intellectual nomads, who mentally
wander from racist mentor, to charismatic
dictator, on a journey from oblivion to

We are deeply saddened and disturbed by
those who see our struggle for JUSTICE 
FULCRUM for fear and racist loathing.

You, the elite, have locked the doors on
the greatest of human laws: "to love one
another, and to do to others as you would
have them do to you".

Your actions in closing those doors shows
you are still, as savagely barbaric as your
predecessors were.

If you cannot see the essence of creation
in our MURRI (Indigenous) culture or in:
the refugee, the drunkard, the prostitute,
those that hunger, the dispossessed, the
sick, the poor and the infirmed; you have
diminished your own personal human
potentiality and divorced yourself from
the very basis of your own spirituality.

—And until you listen to us, you will never
comprehend or hear the deep, spiritual
inner silences of your own soul.

You will continue to produce that

—You will not see the Winter West Wind in
the high cloud.

—Or FEEL the love of a child’s kiss on an
aged and wrinkled Black cheek.