Drought Winds howling and whistling through floorboards and cracks Desert sandstorms whip through the saltbush plain In the distance blurred outlines of homesteads past Creviced lined eyes squint through the window pane Angels of drought have mercy on me I’d kill for hot damper and sweet billy tea It seems like God has forsaken me Dust storms choking , sticky flies are like fleas Watching them bellow and drown in the muck Smell rotting flesh while blowflies suck on their feast While the suits sit in their concrete jungle and don’t give a f**k Fences are down and can’t be repaired Take up a job whilst everything’s tight What bloody job ? This small town depended on us right? We can’t spend money we have none to give Town is slowly dying, the shops closing down How in this hell are we’re expected to live Come and see for yourself you big city clown No point in selling the markets have dived Wharves turning cattle trucks away, Stock too poor to sell, some never even arrived No money today to keep bank man at bay The cost of bullets I can’t really afford Let’s kill off the stock, forecast says no rain I can’t take much more of this Lord No tears on my face, it’s a permanent stain Poor me a strong one bitter taste sweet Skin and bone eyes even bigger I load up the gun blue heeler at my feet Slowly I raise the cock and pull the trigger Home at last, laid down to rest Regrets there are none Goodbye old mate id did my best Sweat stained akubra rests on his gun
Posted on: Mon, 19 Jan 2015 20:40:50 +0000
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