Cool change coming round the corner Cool change coming round the corner Restless litter in the street, time is nipping at our heels In the morning we won’t know why we ever wore these clothes Cool change coming round the corner Cool change coming round the corner Waking up, venetian blinds, construction work outside Now the sudden need for pants like the last day of school camp Cool change coming round the corner Cool change coming round the corner Soon again it will be May, we’ll go to parties in the rain Travel plans will be arranged, get your coat and scarf again Just a thought and then a day, put those summer clothes away Always leaving things behind, always making up our minds Cool change coming round the corner Old age is coming for us

I don’t know, I’ve just been told, guilty wretch that I am I came into the house after everything was settled That night we went without meat and everything was scuttled Three of us were cornered had to come up with a story One for them and one for us and one for the informants I don’t know, I’ve just been told, there is right, and wrong Look out on the corner and you’ll see a heart of darkness My friends were waiting for me I could see no better option Mother came to meet me, said that I should reconsider I said I’d write a story and that I would put her in it I don’t know, I’ve just been told, I won’t grow old There’s another detail that I won’t neglect to mention Sullivan was doing thing beyond the group’s intentions In the mountains behind Nelson he came forth as the true villain As we dug the shallow grave and took the three pounds sixteen shillings From a labourer we came upon the track while we were waiting We took those three months’ wages and we drank them down in town And at the tavern I could tell that he had plans to make me look bad But I was only robbing the Maori camp I hope you understand Those Jury men, they’ve just been told different laws than my own There are many crimes to which I’m readily confessing And others which I’ll spend my dying days to have corrected Thieves will have their owner if they hold the silence golden And they know the biggest rule of all is ‘always be a man’ And guilty wretch that I am, at least I have that

One morning in Manchester, I’ve never been there but I can picture it The kitchen scene, the flowers growing in spite of it The kettle boiling like puberty, tell the girls to be in time for tea Outside there’s boys in jeans with no need to wear sunglasses Staring back at me, the post industrial poster boys For a feeling that I sometimes have when I’m gazing up at power lines in a fading light That we are all Detroit, we are all Detroit We will all be destroyed, we will all be unemployed We are all Detroit, our feelings are embroiled We will be reborn one morning in Detroit Slouching to Bethlehem under blue skies in Baltimore, there is grandeur here Old stories will reappear under ancient signs of the groceries of the sixties There’s nothing quite as old as Modernity Each morning the sun still shines and we will ask what’s for breakfast Cheerios at nine, served with poverty in excess In the bar tonight is the unbending instinct which is not concerned with dignity There’s more than one way to lose your virginity And we are all Detroit, we are all Detroit We will all be destroyed, we will all be unemployed We are all Detroit, our feelings are embroiled We will be reborn one morning in Detroit We will all foreclose, a mix of fading-fast instinct And the roots and leaves of incorrigible pheromones On the prairie lawn we reap what we have sewn We click our heels and grow familiar with the mould

Still remember that feeling of waiting on a fool On many an evening when I was a youth I was waiting on a fool Those taxis and sirens were calling in the night again The phone is calling like a foghorn, the obscenity of spring Letterboxes leering, pollen is just semen, sing a journey song And hold on to that steering, you’re on the ship of fools again Scene of sunset and silos out over a plain On the edge of something, still so far away yet I followed like a moon And swam through dark waters to sirens in the night again I was waiting on a fool, I was waiting on a fool I was waiting on a fool to change their mind They never do They never do I was waiting on a fool, I was waiting on a fool I was waiting on a fool to change their mind They never do

Woodman, spare that tree Touch not a single bough In youth it sheltered me and I'll protect it now Rule Britannia, let the wind blow over orchards that never need to dry Run the rivers in a straight line over land under a clear blue sky The plan was not to die, the plan has been revised Woodman, spare that tree Touch not a single bough In youth it sheltered me, and I'll protect it now Call up the mountains to the excavating harvest Machines to make a new cemetery of the fruit trees of our youth For all the running wild, we just fattened in the sty Like Menzies era pride [La-la-la] They do this when it’s green When happens when it’s dry? Woodman, spare that tree Touch not a single bough In youth it sheltered me But the orchard’s empty now Woodman, spare that tree Touch not a single bough In youth it sheltered me But the orchard’s empty now The orchard’s empty now

The city in the distance, and a ripple in the long grass An exit from the highway, and a stillness in the sunshine A home is like a long dream, there’s room for dreams in Doreen And some people dream about making amphetamines Doreen, Doreen, Doreen Turn around, turn around, Doreen Doreen, Doreen, Doreen We came here to get clean Please, Doreen The same sets of conditions that help us take it slowly Are also advantageous for speed laboratories A fondness for high fences, not too many questions Remove all suspicion by waving on occasion Doreen, Doreen, Doreen Turn around, turn around, Doreen Doreen, Doreen, Doreen We came here to get clean Please, Doreen An old drag on a new street, police tape on a crime scene A kitchen in a garage, a body beaten savage Police would like to speak to two men driving a white ute They’re asking round locally for help with inquiries Doreen, Doreen, Doreen Turn around, turn around, Doreen Doreen, Doreen, Doreen No more pessimistic scenes Please, Doreen Police said it had all the hallmarks of some sort of debt There’s fixed rate or there’s varied rate or there’s just a kick in the head It’s not supposed to be here, crime is a city thing I saw it in a movie; the man gives up his life of crime for a girl called Doreen, Doreen, Doreen Turn around, turn around, Doreen Doreen, Doreen, Doreen We came here to get clean Please, Doreen

This place on a Sunday might as well be the moon In outer space there are places less inclined to put you down The human race, in its wisdom Would sooner send a man into space than see a girl walking around alone here For all of the welcome she will find this might as well be the moon The window lace, like the red sea, parts wherever your foot will fall Those floating eyes in the darkness see everything but the truth The sidewalk sighs, you should know now They’re making little steps up above us There won’t be a television broadcast, but this might as well be the moon Without a trace of a footprint you’re just a shadow in a headlight In broken glass diamonds after midnight With all of these strangers that you know, this might as well be the moon

The church bells were ringing, announcing new resolve The same bells that told me that the war had been won Announcing to the world in their dulcet tones The end of the affair The end of the affair When I grow old I’ll count my money In silver coins and little boxes on the ground If I have time, I’ll count my lovers In silvers frames and yellow pictures of the mind The curtain calls, two eyes receding Like those above at the end of the affair And the church bells were ringing, announcing new resolve The same bells that told me that the war had been won Announcing to the world in their dulcet tones The end of the affair The end of the affair When we are gone, they’ll play our records And hear the sound of little voices that they find In place of you, they’ll read your letters And speculate on what is lost between the lines So long ago, someone was lonely Could hardly wait to begin the whole affair And the old men were singing in the hotel down the road And I found the perfect prayer that seemed to suit the winter mood Oh God, you’ve done enough, you’ve robbed me of enough Leave me alone forever, leave me alone forever At the end of the affair The end of the affair

So, sitting on a train, going home again Going from city to another Blue light out in the dark, hear the engines start Rolling slowly over and under tracks of other peoples’ lives You see them in the lights, going from one station to another Then somewhere in the night, awakening my eyes A scene that is not home but is familiar So, sitting on a train, going home again Going from city to another Blue light out in the dark, see the nighttime start Coloured in for people who are lying still They’ll be here the next day, but we’ll be on our way, going from one city to another See this country in the dark, the trees like body parts Crawling out of gullies in the act of haunting those who stay In a place that is too strange to ever make much sense in the middle of the night See the lack of rain, feels like home again Travelling from Sydney to Melbourne Signs of other peoples’ lives flickering outside Flickering like eyes in the middle of the night So, sitting on a train, see the landscape change Going from city to another Blue light out in the dark, see the nighttime start Coloured in for people who are lying still They’ll be here the next day, but we’ll be on our way, going from one city to another Red light out on the plain, see the morning made Coloured in for people who are waiting here In a place that shouldn’t be home to anyone But is home to every person that I’ve ever known

The good ones know when to back down The good ones know how to say no They don’t do it too friendly, they don’t do it too cold Good women don’t let themselves go The good ones don’t look for a man The good ones always find a man They don’t do it too early, they don’t do it too late Good women always exfoliate And on the outskirts of town That’s where the bad girls go down They do it too early, they do it too late We don’t stay late at the grave You’d better stop your rambling around Or be that girl you heard about You’d better stand up on the alter You’d better make that deal To make it out of this world in one piece

How could it be so, how could it be so How could it be so that they’re singing these songs Where the ground does not grow And the factories close On the points of the globe not well known for their niceties Over and over, a story unfolding The music most wanted by the people most not With just a place to go, a place to go A place to go and a place to leave Send to them a pied piper Send him to find them Soon they will stream in to the cities and towns Bringing with them their daughters and tales of misfortune Their widows and orphans all set to a song If you catch them a-singing It’s like the light streaming On a corner of woods with the branch overturned See the animals stream, their conditions revealed Hear the noises they make as they scatter for miles Give them a place to go, a place to go A place to go and a place to leave