| On a drive from St Lucia to Surfers
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| In my old university car
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| We had the windows down for our air con'
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| The door was so hot that you burned your arm
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| It was the tail end of a summer
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| And the heat washed in with the breeze
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| And you were searching for something to sing to
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| As the radio played another terrible song
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| But lucky for me, you found the tape with Tallulah on
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| And it’s been a long time
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| Since I’ve seen all my old friends
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| But I really love my new friends
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| I feel I’ve known them a long while
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| Then last summer you wrote me a letter
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| On the back of a surf magazine
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| You said you didn’t have any paper
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| And maybe you wondered what could have been
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| So I sent you a postcard from Berlin of a fat man eating a sausage
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| It hid the fact that I was hiding
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| As the DJ played another terrible song
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| But lucky for us, we found a bar with the Maytals on
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| And it’s been a long time
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| Since I’ve seen all my old friends
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| But I really love my new friends
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| I feel I’ve known them a long while
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| I’m wondering if I’ve already heard all the songs that’ll mean something
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| And I’m wondering if I’ve already met all the people that’ll mean something
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| But I find myself daydreaming of the places where we used to stay
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| We used to brush them away
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| St Kilda, Coolangatta, Bondi Beach and Coogee Bay
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| I like the sound of their names
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| And I wonder if you would wanna go there with me
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| When I’m finished over here
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| If you’re not finished with me |