One, two
|
One, two, three!
|
|
The sunrise bleeds into the bay,
|
Landed in Sydney, nothing's changed.
|
It's still so beautiful in ways I will never be
|
The dogs are still in parliament
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And every summer day is spent
|
Under the shade down by the fence, cricket on TV
|
|
The desert cracks under the sun.
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The farmers wait for rains to come
|
We all have our own race to run, sometimes
|
And everything we read about, I would believe but I'm in doubt, on what's left in and what's left out
|
This time
|
|
No way will we run,
|
No way will we run and hide,
|
Under a southern sky
|
Under a southern sky
|
Under a southern sky
|
|
There's beach towels laid out on the shore,
|
Where no one needs or wants for more,
|
And all the radio is for is monotony
|
An eastern suburbs housewife yawns,
|
And while the gardener mows her lawns,
|
We all just smile and play along,
|
And why wouldn't we?
|
It's easier to be undone,
|
Than it is to stand and run,
|
It's easier to feel it's come, untied
|
The dream they'll sell you isn't much
|
Like the reality but,
|
Underneath it all there's dust, and time...
|
|
No way will we run,
|
No way will we run and hide,
|
Under a southern sky
|
Under a southern sky
|
Under a southern sky
|
Under a southern sky
|
|
-----------------
|
Under A Southern Sky
|
| The Beautiful Girls |
