Sunrise over desert, ancient canvas

As the Easterly exhales across the sea

It's a broken hallelujah, flinching in amnesia

Fiction playing back as gospel fact

And the miners are picking at the wounds

For fortunes we can no longer afford

Each sacrifice is justified when the price is right

Even when we boom it's but a bust

In this town I used to be from

A place that still thinks itself young

Where Fanny Balbuk mocked the fences

Of occupying oppressors

In this town I used to call home

Barefoot on molten bitumen

The car fills with salt and vinegar to spare

We are bold, we're ingenious; we keep visitors

We're felons with fleeting memories

In this town I used to be from

Baking under unflinching sun

Where Yagan was murdered

A century 'til he rested

In this town I used to call home

In this town I used to be from

Original unceded though it be

Where a statement from the heart

Invites all to play their part

Always was and always will be

The town I used to call home