The lord is my temple. God is by my side. You pay rates on that temple. Build materials at the side. He gives reasons. To get through the day. He doesn't have rinse action.
The God forsaken rifleman stands rigid at the bar. The kids discover victims in the rubble and the tar. They're married to ambition to the slogans of the war.
Well oh well I feel I'm in decay. John Laws is on the air again. It's heavy traffic, jacarandas, eye in the sky and foot on ground. I see a million sand speck'd ants in mortal combat hand to hand.
Up there on the platform. He is speaking to the people. The people are responding. With clapping and a'cheering. But the meaning of the message. Not revealed to those assembled.