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A gentle winter haze creeps in at three forty-four |
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The Hindley |
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Street parade shuffles to my door |
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The hotel decor shades are always poorly sewn |
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Twenty-five in thirty days makes this room feel like home |
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Na, na, na |
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Na, na, na, na |
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Na, na, na |
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Na, na, na, na |
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The western ocean breeze kick starts another day |
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And under brewed bag tea, no matter where you get it |
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Always seems to leave that taste |
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The Todd Street mall cafe is here to save the day |
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Why should |
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I complain when everybody else is overworked and underpaid? |
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Na, na, na |
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Na, na, na, na |
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Na, na, na |
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Na, na, na, na |
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Days keep rolling over |
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Escape to the undercover |
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Soon it will all be over |
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And we can start again |
