So come all ye fulltime smalltown heroes
Cast away your inbred fears of
Standing out from all the rest
The cynics and the pessimists
The self-indulgent almost rich
The blatant hurlers on the ditch
Time is passing so come on
And face the ball, the game is on
A lot of muldoons on here could learn from that
She doesn’t care for romance
Wants your money not your love
She feels your pockets not your dick
She doesn’t care for all that stuff
And when her boyfriend’s out out of town
It gives her time to fool around
And when the wolf comes howling
She ends up resting underground
I’m goin’ down to Katy’s party
With a bottle of Bacardi
All the girls are there
They’re gettin’ real high with the white line
She crossed the white line
Prawn mate,
How’s things buddy?
Great farmer buddy, just great.
Hows the family?
You can have my isolation
You can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything
Not bad, not bad at all Prawn.
And yours? Pass on my regards.
Im glad to hear that.
Will do mate.
(Any chance of getting the thumbsup smilie back Rocko mate?)
Pretty girl on the hood of a Cadilac, yeah…
She’s broken down on freeway nine.
I take a look and her engines started,
I leave her purring and I roll on by…bye bye
Free love on the free love freeway,
The love is free and the freeways long…
I got some hot love on the hot-love freeway
I ain’t going home cos my baby’s gone
She’s deeaaaaaad
She’s not dead