| I grew up by the Great Western Highway on the train line
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| I used to count carriages of coal trains before I heard of
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| Cannonball and Coltrane, I was playing ball games
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| I’f go to sleep on Friday night, praying that it wouldn’t rain
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| Dad built a b-ball hoop then flew the coop
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| While us kids fought like troops and mum was the truth
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| I can’t believe I threw my sister through the front door
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| I learnt my lesson well before the triple 0 call
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| And on the tapedeck by brother had control
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| Getting schooled by him proper in the cold
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| Wenty falls, flannelette and skateboard, foggy wet weekends
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| Funny hour a four-litre cask makes you see friends
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| Parties at the park and drunk, tagging state rail
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| Smoke through empty cans of coke when all else failed
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| Wilin' out on muck up day, turned it into muck up night
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| Cause school didn’t seem to care if we were fuck ups right
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| We were blowing off steam, still not even 18
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| Floating somewhere down stream with a vague dream
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| If could change an hour, maybe I’d move a minute
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| However many lives I’ve had, I’m only just beginning
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| I learnt a few things along the way
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| Try to keep 'em front and centre with me every day
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| All the rest can and will for away
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| Hold tight who you love and let the rest fall away
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| Don’t look back hoping for the same
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| Cause from where I’ve come I’ve changed
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| (I don’t know) how to explain the hundred lives I’ve lived
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| And the thousand more I’ve craved
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| In my happy younger days I was a blank page in an empty book
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| I recal l that naive innocence of childhood
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| Never really was wind, more a quiet one
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| Grew into a shy teen that didn’t seem to smile much
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| Took off for South America at 17
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| Became a sudaco punk in skinny jeans
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| There I learned what passion, love, and friendship really means
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| Came home to a cold, cold world, that I couldn’t really feel
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| I was not the same, disappeared into a purple haze
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| Of weed smoke and drum & bass
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| Couldn’t seem to find my place
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| Then I did at Uni, fighting for causes
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| We reclaimed streets and taunted police forces
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| Had my heart broken so bad it left my head swimmin'
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| Proceeded to take it out on a few good women
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| Lived fast and reckless trying to outrun the sorrow
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| Like there was no tomorrow, but inside still hollow
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| Then the mic came and saved me, centre stage became a place
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| To vent my rage, cyphered and time and went for days
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| Staved off cynicism with wit and rhythm
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| A hundred lives and counting, a hundred to be written |