Speed, and this There's a feeling I get when I look to the sun Love, it's so tough Cause it raises your hopes and then it makes you run
We're all looking for a shorter day We're all looking for an easy way Even when the debts are dead and gone
Down, the stairs And an eight mile drive waits for you to turn on Hear, the time clocks sing And the smoke in the distance reaches the eye line
We're all working on a shorter day...
No conversation as you go There's so much space the heat moves you Terracotta homes, backyard barbeque and eucalyptus smell It's fine on the clothes line It's fast food and slow life and red roof My silence, comic interruptions Surely there's some relief from atomic art And the fragile state of world events With clowns who love the kings and power and the mutant media babes Wanking on dreams and fashions and toilet paper flowers Don't talk to me in this backyard - it's clandestine, it's nuclear Smell of space and now forever I want to go Straight down the exit eight mile attraction you-turn is up and the time clock sings lets go
Lucky country Where the geckos are paid to live in the sun On and on there's a ribbon of road and a mile to spare Lucky country Lucky country