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(ian hunter) |
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(transcribed by justin purington; corrections by colin ford) |
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Wrote this poem |
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Called "the floods roll on" |
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He said this ain't yours, |
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Where'd you get it from? |
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You must have stole it from a book, |
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Oh yeah |
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You must have stole it from a book. |
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'cause you ain't frail |
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You ain't beautiful, |
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And I don't fancy you |
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At all. |
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You'd be a ruin |
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If looks could kill |
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23 a, swan hill |
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Stiff with rage |
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Screaming at the sky |
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Innocence breaks |
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Says she wants to die |
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I'm assuming I'm alive |
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Oh yeah |
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I'm assuming I'm alive |
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She pushes and she pulls |
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My legs go weak |
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In fascinating terror |
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The whole world moves |
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And I'm standing still |
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In 23a swan hill |
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And it's always raining |
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And you never ask why |
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You never give yourself a shot |
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You just sit and watch your life go by |
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Kicking stones |
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At a still life |
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Want to pull it down |
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Slash it slash it |
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There must be some way out here |
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There must be some way out here |
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This ain't right |
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There must be more to life |
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Than breaking and entering |
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Doing people's heads in |
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Alcohol, nicotine |
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Thinking what I might have been |
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You would be a ruin |
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If looks could kill |
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23 a, swan hill |
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And the whole world moves |
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And I'm standing still |
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In 23 a, swan hill |
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And I will |
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And I will |
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And I will |
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And I will |
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In 23 a, swan hill |
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(repeat and fade) |
