Won't you come on down the line, away from barren ground 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 A caveman could a saint become, on a hospital ward on the Somme We can dive into distant amoebas, our wings could melt in the sun I can shake, I can move, but I can't live without your love I can break, Over you, but I can't live without your love Our poet Henry Lawson, he named them, the lay'em out brigade Here they come, there they go, oh great god of development Don't really know you yet Coastline hosed down washed away, economics now there's nothing left Tomorrow's child takes concrete footsteps And theyll drink champagne or be damned And the storm is breaking now, yes the storm is crashing down (Moginie/Garrett)