Out where the river broke. The blood wood and the desert oak. Holden wrecks and boiling diesels. Steam in fourty-five degrees. . The time has come, to say fair's fair.
When I can't see you. You're always near. Back right pocket. I keep you there. Safely hidden. For all those times. When nothing else at all. Can get me by.
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.
In a country that we call home. In a land that's skin and bone. There's a place that's hardly known.. . Mountains appearing with the sun. Rivers of light they westward run.
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.
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?. Whatcha gonna do now, now that it's done?. The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down..
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.
One thing's for sure. That it's still the same. That young folk die. For some noble aim. And they live so fast. But they die so young. And we just keep wondering.
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.
I was taken downtown for my part in the demonstration. I was used and abused with the light in my eye at the station. I said. No no You got the wrong man.
There is enough for everyone. In Redfern as there is in Alice. This is not the Buckingham Palace. This the crown land. This is the brown land. This is not our land.
Scanning at the blue bended headlands. White flurry scudded, a dark silhouette flashes by, in the wet. It is glistening flesh. In the deep marine, in the deep marine.
US Forces give the nod, it's a setback for your country. Bombs and trenches all in rows, bombs and threats still ask for more. Divided world the CIA, who controls the issue.
There's a road train going nowhere. Roads are cut, lines are down. We'll be staying at the Roma Bar. Till that monsoon passes on. . The backbone of this country's broken.
Oh the news will travel slowly. Over broken glass. And I'll bet you've heard that story. Under the overpass. . got no time to weep for something. You'll never get back.
Like a heat wave breaking as you smell warm rain. We can fade away or start over again. In a high five season in a cut-price land. The southern cross don't shine on that invisible hand.
Haven't had so much fun since my daddy. Took the V8 away. Light a spark in the dark take a mark. It's resurrection day. It's a breeze timorese apec speak.
In the cities and the towns. The word is coming down. No more doubt, no more pain. There's been a dragging of the chain. Now there's a price we gotta pay.
I'm gonna wait for the moment to come. I'm gonna wait till we all stop from running. Boxed in like candles, polar bear pride. Turning to terror as the script is read out.
Who will march for peace. Now that the last of the diggers has gone. All those who were released. From Sulva Bay and from the Somme. The Mallee is whipped by sand.