The harlot and the autocrat, are they driving you further down

The season's rhymes, they anchor me, against the raging tide

Take you to the last wild place, skin and the stars they embrace

We can dive into distant amoebas, our wings could melt in the sun



I can shake, I can move, but I live can't without your love

I can break, Over you, but I live without your love



Our poet Henry Lawson, he named them, the lay'em out brigade

Don't really know you yet

Coastline hosed down washed away, economics now there's nothing left

Tomorrow's child takes concrete footsteps

And they'll drink champagne or be damned



And the storm is breaking now, yes the storm is crashing down



(Moginie/Garrett)