| The world gets faster, the tempo skips
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| The mind plays tricks when the sunlight hits me
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| I get a memory flashed like a frisbee
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| Thrown from a thousand long miles away
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| Thoughts go deep and underneath
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| The ground that used to be beneath me
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| There’s a restless need to indulge the senses
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| Just to see what the mind remembers
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| Dive in, swim through the maze
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| Hold your breath and let go of the reigns
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| Caught in the rip and the current below
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| Mind got movement, mind got flow
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| From where I stand, the vision expanded
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| Over the red sand over the land
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| Over the city and the bush and beyond
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| Mind gallop over, countless kilometres
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| To a place where the oldest origins
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| Where the silent sleeping sorrow is
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| With a thriving creeping metropolis
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| Where the hearts are as heavy as the wallet is
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| In a colony that paints your dreams
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| With glinted light of the harbour seas
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| The flame trees in amongst the weeds
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| The greenest greens in the rainforest valleys
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| The undergrowth, solar flares
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| Sunsets spread in the sky like prayers
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| The rarest flowers cover the ground
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| Illegal crops support the small towns
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| A house on stilts in a cane field
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| And old wood mill with a chain wheel
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| Insects hum in the afternoon
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| Like a thousand drummers in a tiny room
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| And there’s a silver moon that’ll rise tonight
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| Shine a light along the countryside
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| Beaches give way to rolling pastures
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| Wheat and barley wait for harvest
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| Fibro houses with peeling paint
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| An old hills hoist and a rusty gate
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| A garden path, a big backyard
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| And a clapped out car in the front
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| And the languid heat makes sleepless nights
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| Lazy speak, mosquito bites
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| Old timers who drive the road trains
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| Rolling cigarettes single handed
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| Outback pubs in the blazing sun
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| Fried up grub in the empty drums
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| Twelve apostles, hungry possums
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| Empty bottles, ancient fossils
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| Friendly blokes, racist jokes
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| And everywhere you look there a ghosts
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| Lightning flash, thunder crack
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| Rain come down and the sky turn black
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| Over fishing trawlers in majestic waters
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| Blistering winds on a ship wreck shore
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| Neptune’s wrath with a ledger book
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| You gonna pay for the fish that your fathers took
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| And families fear for the worst in storms
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| But some folk weren’t meant to live indoors
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| And the horses run, the eagle soar
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| The car seat’s hot and the breeze is warm
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| Drive the car south, follow the signs
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| On highways carved in to lonely coastlines
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| Move forward, sing the praise
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| Drive for days to watch climates change
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| It’s highly likely we’ll sleep in the back seat
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| With a rolled up pillow and a bed sheet
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| And we drive with a mess on the windscreen
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| And the bugs pasty at the speed
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| And the road runs straight all the way to the west
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| Where the sea gets down with the sunset
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| Road kill flesh, service stations
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| Dry riverbeds, and burnt out cars
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| Saltpan lakes calm and vast
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| Colours explode under skies of glass
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| Snakes and lizards, red blood ribbons
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| Buried in the dust and the rock and the grass
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| And the stars in the milky way
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| Transform the night in a darkened frame
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| Distant suns and constellations
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| Shooting stars and the sky is blazing
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| And the gods they must be crazy
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| And the gods they must be crazy
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| And the gods they must be crazy
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| We are all spangled orphans, shifting fortunes
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| Channelling long dead spirits
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| We cling to the coast like ghosts
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| Sunday roasts, English hopes
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| Given way tied to an island with a tyranny of distance
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| With a heart full of gold and persistence
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| And it’s hard to say what we’d like to say
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| While Matilda waltzes the night away
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| Through the blood and the sweat
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| And the tears and the laughter
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| The sun and the rain and the thunder
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| And the creeks and the rivers and the reefs
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| And the valleys and the fields and the beach
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| I saw it all clear from my house on a hill
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| In a country for away I thought to myself
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| Til the day that I die
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| That’ll be where my heart remains |