Well oh well I feel I'm in decay John Laws is on the air again It's heavy traffic, jacarandas, eye in the sky and foot on ground I see a million sand speck'd ants in mortal combat hand to hand
And I feel that I Yes I feel that I Seem to live this life long distance gaze at the things surround me People rolling in and out Those circles and tides confound me
And there's just one thing Yes there's just one thing
Who can stand in the way When there's a dollar to be made?
I was hanging round off Dobroyd Point When the first fleet chain sailed in Looked into the clearest blue The scurvy smell, the convicts cry
And we just carried on, Yes we just carried on
Now choppers strafe the supermarket sky and people wonder why Chopping down tons of trees Got seas of print not a soul can read say Why do I drown you build brick boxes One by one now they block my sun But it's metal on metal It's the dance of TV If Christ were here he'd camera check He'd cry so loud the planes would stop He'd cry so loud the earth would shake And men would fall in tinsel town
There's just one thing Yes there's just one thing...
Who can stand in the way When there's a dollar to be made?
Precious moments, precious few When that dollar's more than me and you It's the joy of forgetting, Such a joy to forget But we killed all our firstborn And we slashed and we burned And we sold off the paddocks And we raped and we gouged On the wings of a six-pack Will we ever learn?
(Moginie/Garrett)
Compositores: Peter Roberts Garrett (Peter Garrett), James Paul Moginie (James Moginie), Martin Magnus Rotsey (Martin Rotsey), Peter Thomas John Gifford (Peter Gifford), Robert George Hirst (Ghostwriter) ECAD: Obra #4045782