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Midnight Oil Place Without A Postcard Burnie Brought up in a world of changes, part time cleaner in a holiday flat I stare out to sea at the ships at night No anaesthesia, I'm going to work on it day to day No zephyr, no light relief it seems But maybe it's a dream I'm lying back in a row of timber cases Placed out on the dock with nightmare faces looking at me And I can see now and I wanna be free now This is my home This is my sea Don't paint it with the future of factories I want to stay I feel o.k. There's nothing else that's perfect I'll have my way We're all sinking in our own mud Brought up in a world of changes, waste-product pedestrian limb from limb Short changed by the surfing priest again Two children in the harbor, they play their games storm water drain Write their contract in the sand, it'll be gray for life But you can draw the blind, but you can't stop the sun From shining on and on and getting you there Tide forever beckons you to leave, something holds you back It's not the promise of a swell or a girl just The hope that some day, some way it'll be o.k. So you stop and say This is my home This is my sea Don't paint it with the future of factories This is my life This is my right I'll make it what I want to I'll stay and I'll fight ----------------------------------------------------------- |
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