Brought up in a world of changes. Part time cleaner in a holiday flat. Stare out to sea at the ships at night. No anaesthesia, I'm gonna work on it day to day.
In my shoes, in my shoes. There is so much to remind me. As the stars come out above me, home. . Cool wind, clear my head. Bright sun grow my food. Strong rain clear my heart.
Here comes the angel of death. You may not remember her yet. Concrete all over her face. Child bride of the human race. . Until you see life in the forest.
In the desert in the dry. Before the breaking of the rain. The temperature in the shade. Had reached a hundred and ten again. . In the desert in the dry.
Hey, hey-hey hey. There'll be food on the table tonight. Hey, hey, hey hey. There'll be pay in your pocket tonight. . My gut is wrenched out it is crunched up and broken.
I've seen faces in the window. I've seen faces in the street. They walk and talk of nothing. I've known many restless summers. The sand dunes I imagine.
The Southern Aurora was late again. As I waited at central to take you home. Winking spinning sparkling lights on our flat earth. You talk about the old groundling ways.
You say times are tough. We've got the best of both worlds here. Things are rough. We've got the best of both worlds here. Times are tough. We've got the best of both worlds.
Beds Are Burning. Midnight Oil. . Out where the river broke. The bloodwood and the desert oak. Holden wrecks and boiling diesels. Steam in forty five degrees.
Fresh air soft landing. So good to be home. This bruised world's got its beauty. It's where I belong.. . The sight of those green curves. Quickens my heart.
I am gone, can't waste more time. I said, not quite joking. The fire has gone the big trees stand. The underground is smoking. . Remember nothing you've been told.
Must be time for a second chance. I can't escape this basement flat. Writers cramp and claustrophobia. . Must be time for a better place. My sink leaks and the rats have won the race.
In this city with no footpath there's a building with no people. There is crime and gun decisions. There's a street of heat and hawkers, there's a house of hope drifters.
From the bar to the bedroom I'm swimming in the neon. Lighted pictures of a redhead, plastic-coated hot on. And sometimes when that mirror shows. The smile of disbelief.