In the centre of this suburb there’s a back creek where the kids get whittled down,
and at the edge of the water there’s a seamless hint of autumn in the sounds.
Now my brain starts beating faster and my heart, a ghetto blaster to the shroud
of twisting winding trees.
Lets turn these creeks into seas, and sing aloud.
We won’t let these cities conquer us.
We’ll watch them rise and fall.
So climb on out of your basement room,
‘cause we’re leaving soon.
In the centre of this city the sidewalk cracks and it’s not pretty,
as a tired man sleeps upon the vent
suits stroll by with broken pity and it’s sad.
Some nights we sell it all short and that’s all we have.
We’re leaving tonight