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The Currency
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Gates Of Hell
Combat boots on Davey's feet
He shuffles past in the heat
Here the drought is layers deep
No rain no money no food no sleep
Running dry on Smith Street
A desperate call for anything at all
And there's payments to be made
Hole in the wall and no withdrawal
And call the bank displayed
No one but myself to blame
Says Davey 'I'm in trouble!'
Oh well the well is dry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-ly
Oh well it's back I go
Through the gates of hell
Lying in the heat again
Waiting for the change
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And on the TV fighter planes
Every channel's just the same
He packs his bags and leaves by the lane
Chinatown and still no rain
Davey tries to call again
line engaged try another
Davey's talking to his brother
'Tell Mum I'm coming home
Home again home'
The waves of Bass Straight make you sick
And then you see King's rocky cliffs
And then the mountains in the mist
Oh what a sight is this!
Is it sea spray or is it rain?
Or tears on Davey's cheek?
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