Look at the moon above our heads
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Oh the night is old but it's not dead
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Let's talk of things that we used to do
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'Cause the future looks too bleak
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My body's floatin' up in the stars
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The alcohol seems to cleanse the scars
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As another bottle hits the ground
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I feel as empty as it sounds
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So pass the flagon down the line
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It don't taste bad for such cheap wine
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And now the only thing left to forget
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Is that picture of her
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Well I awake and everything's bright
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Oh my eyes they can't adjust
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To the morning light
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My body's achin' with the cold
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I feel about a hundred years old
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So I stagger down to the D.S.S.
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To try to get myself a counter cheque
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But an hour in line's an hour of wasted time
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And I want to break their necks
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You see my wife she couldn't stand the pain
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Left one morning on the evening train
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And now the only thing left to forget
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Is that picture of her
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You see my dad was one too you know
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He couldn't forget
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I don't feel proud following his footsteps
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Although the backs of his feet
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Are just a memory
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>From sometime long ago
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Getting' back to the park again
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Johnny borrowed some money off a friend
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And we washed down the morning with
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Some port and curled up in the shade
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You see my job was boring
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So I got the sack
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Spent the next twelve years on my back
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And the mortgages came and
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Sucked my house down the drain
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Now those four winds they blow
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All around me
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You see my wife
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She couldn't stand the smell
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Left me here to rot in hell
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And now the only thing left to forget
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Is that picture of her
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Words & Music: Stevie Plunder
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Tim Freedman: vocal, piano
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Stevie Plunder: vocal, guitar
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Andy Lewis: bass
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Stuart Eadie: drums
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Al Jones: Piano
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-----------------
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Pass the Flagon
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The Whitlams |