| It goes, one for the money, two for the privilege
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| I grew up in the inner city of Sydney
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| Problems, I had a whole lot of them in me
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| Smoked a lot of weed at the age of sixteen
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| Spend time tryna find out my history
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| Wondering what it was the wind was whispering
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| I’m from a land where the sunlight’s blistering
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| And everybody’s got their own get-rich-quick scheme
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| Money, money, money, make more money quickly
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| Build machinery to mine and dig deep
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| The new gold rush economic dick tease
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| Snap your neck back at a break neck quick speed
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| High school assembly signing the anthem
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| The words sound empty and I can’t stand them
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| Even back then I had to deal with the phantom
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| I called myself Australian short hand for random
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| Bang to the boogie, bang, bang the boogie
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| Bang to the boogie, bang, bang the boogie
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| Bang to the boogie, bang, bang the boogie
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| Bang to the Lucky Country boogie the beat
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| I got a Chinese father and a white mother
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| And I was a punk drummer back when I was just a youngun
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| I’m a mixed bag, mixed race, mixed up kid
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| (What you got) with something to give, and I give what I can
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| I’m from a land where blokes are blokes
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| And they yell stop the boats and It gets them votes
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| And they brag and they boast and promote a fair go
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| The closer you look the more you see they don’t
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| And you hope that this changes excepting it won’t
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| Like somewhere along the way that’s all she wrote
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| Summerland really has a heart of snow
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| Where the temperature and attitudes are 40 below
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| But I still call Australia home
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| I still hit the road with a hunger to roam
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| And pack a little piece of the place in my heart and bones
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| Every single time I get up and go, now here we go
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| I am from a cashed up land of pirates
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| A beautiful island with a sense of entitlement
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| Me first attitudes, highly competitive
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| Perched inbetween pioneering and irrelevant
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| Casually racist overly cautious
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| We lock the boarders up like it was a fortress
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| Suffocated by a sense of importance
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| And governed by minds that suffer from smallness
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| So much focus on the money, I’m nauseous
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| With no thought for those less fortunate
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| And this portrait is far from flawless
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| A little distorted and we’re all caught in it
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| I’m so board of it, it;s so fraudulent
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| We can afford it but don’t press pause on it
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| You can complain or change your coordinates
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| Me, I stay steady tryna get at the source of it
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| And you don’t stop, rock to the rhythm you don’t stop
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| Make money money money make a lot, too much just ain’t enough |