Spark of the Heart

It's a harsh dry land, it breaks your back and scars and gnarls your hands Now carcasses rot in the sun and dust silts up the dams Sacked two men when the postie poked those blueys through the flyscreen doors The welfare state dried up ten years before It's Hobsons' choice, they run this plain and the flocks melt into bone You can drove the stock routes for a year and cripple life at home I still look forward to every day but every day's the same Awake in a sweat, a dream of the smell of rain But a river runs silent, runs deep, I work this land, it grips me by my feet Staying 'til my blood runs cold, spark of the heart, iron in the soul My great grandfather pushed his luck beyond the goyder line Now all that's left are mute ploughshares and a gravestone caulked with lime In tribute, I still use his Swiss barometer in vain Fate be damned, the weather hasn't changed Fifty miles by riverland, there's pasture fenced and sprayed Profit margins chinagraphed on boardrooms in L.A. Absenting landlords meet to match their smiles and fake suntans In three years they'll have leached the soil to sand But a river runs silent, runs deep, I work this land, it grips me by my feet Staying 'til my blood runs cold, spark of the heart, iron in the soul Josie searches saltbush, where rain once ran it's course It's a shock to see a child of twelve grow old upon a horse The glory box lies locked with memories silent as the phone But even in the shadows, it's our home Government relief just might keep breeding stock alive The agents jumped the cost of feed and the export market's dived And if it breaks, I'm still in debt until I'm ninety eight Will the last one out please shut the blody