|
You get out of bed abour half-past seven |
|
Your days are hell so sleeping's heaven |
|
Unfold the paper over yesterday's ,ea; |
|
Good morning |
|
Mr Howard, how do you feel? |
|
Another batch of figures says everything's fine |
|
But that's not what they are saying on the dole-form line |
|
Pocketful of silver like a pocket full of rocks |
|
You stagger down the road to the telephone box "That job's gone" says the person when you ring "You're the thirteenth today" as he drops the thing |
|
Postman at the gate just to make you feel better |
|
Another half a dozen no-job letters |
|
The debts pile up and your confidence goes |
|
And everyone in the family knows |
|
They sympathise because they feel they should |
|
Seven days a week and the money's no good |
|
So you wander around the house for hours at a time |
|
You're looking for a riff and you're looking for a rhyme |
|
Another cup of coffee, no sugar or cream |
|
While the sun goes down on your |
|
Australian dream |
|
The lady next door's screaming at her kids |
|
Because the dole didn't come buth the landlord did |
|
You spend a half a day a week at the |
|
C.E.S. You get a flint-eyed stare from behind the desk |
|
I haven't got a job and you think it's a sin |
|
Don't you read the papers mate, where have you been? "They've shut down the shop and they've stopped our pay." |
|
Isn't it time we became annoyed, there are two generations unemployed. |
