Ganggajang
180426274.gif

I think I hear the sounds of then,
And people talking,
The scenes recalled, by minute movement,
And songs they fall, from the backing tape.
That certain texture,that certain smell,

To lie in sweat, on familiar sheets,
In brick veneer on financed beds.
In a room, of silent hardiflex
That certain texture, that certain smell,
Brings home the heavy days,
Brings home the the night time swell,

Out on the patio we'd sit,
And the humidity we'd breathe,
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
Laugh and think, this is Australia.

The block is awkward - it faces west,
With long diagonals, sloping too.
And in the distance, through the heat haze,
In convoys of silence the cattle graze.
That certain texture, that certain beat,
Brings forth the night time heat.

Out on the patio we'd sit,
And the humidity we'd breathe,
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
Laugh and think that this is Australia.

To lie in sweat, on familiar sheets,
In brick veneer on financed beds.
In a room of silent hardiflex
That certain texture, that certain smell,
Brings forth the heavy days,
Brings forth the night time sweat
Out on the patio we'd sit,
And the humidity we'd breathe,
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
Laugh and think, this is Australia.
This is Australia


Mirror lyrics:

This is Australia
Laugh and think, this is Australia.
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
And the humidity we'd breathe,
Out on the patio we'd sit,
Brings forth the night time sweat
Brings forth the heavy days,
That certain texture, that certain smell,
In a room of silent hardiflex
In brick veneer on financed beds.
To lie in sweat, on familiar sheets,

Laugh and think that this is Australia.
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
And the humidity we'd breathe,
Out on the patio we'd sit,

Brings forth the night time heat.
That certain texture, that certain beat,
In convoys of silence the cattle graze.
And in the distance, through the heat haze,
With long diagonals, sloping too.
The block is awkward - it faces west,

Laugh and think, this is Australia.
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields
And the humidity we'd breathe,
Out on the patio we'd sit,

Brings home the the night time swell,
Brings home the heavy days,
That certain texture, that certain smell,
In a room, of silent hardiflex
In brick veneer on financed beds.
To lie in sweat, on familiar sheets,

That certain texture,that certain smell,
And songs they fall, from the backing tape.
The scenes recalled, by minute movement,
And people talking,
I think I hear the sounds of then,


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