Full Moon

We pulled in at that town by the bypass That you drive past Without a second glance She's had her last dance Yeah, we took our chance on a street About four lanes wide Dead quiet, 7 to 8 at night (right) She was the 1985 tidy town winner But now it's quiet after 5, you can't find dinner Potholed roads, just as the locals like it Some top spots nearby, spoken of in a quiet tip In the hire car, felt the bumps The only light was in the pub (ah) Shrug of the shoulders We headed in for counter grub Unlucky son, the missus gone off to bed I could do a bowl of chips Or some butter and bread Sweetened 4 schooeys, 3 lemon lime bitters 1 for the driver, 2 for the beat hitters And we eat quick as if it's the last drinks (Bar shuts at 9) he said after I asked him Wind blowing through Ghosts in my head This lonely road Has been left for dead Wind blowing through Ghosts in my head This lonely road Has been left for dead A game of darts, a fella asked the only drinker in the place An older bloke with worry lines that make a roadmap of his face Now he could see that we were blow ins, but was showin' hospitality And gradually we warmed, went and chalked up a tally He stammered a little, hammered but totally balanced He leaned over and outed, are you up for a challenge? Shows your talent, but what you say tell me a tale Tried his hand on the land, great job at state rail (He said) this was a town of industry So many years back But black years of drought and fire Have left some fears cracked He says you younguns probably don't wanna hear that I served in New Guinea believe me son, we adapt It's nothing to be sneered at (no) We all thought was a busy boom town Now become a backwater It went Telstra, NAB then Australia Post When that bypass went in's when we failed the most Wind blowing through Ghosts in my head This lonely road Has been left for dead Wind blowing through Ghosts in my head This lonely road Has been left for dead Formerly a town of bush rangers I felt like a stranger The air thin as the area paper Days feel long as the Hume He sent these through Never thought they'd see the day They gave thanks for diesel fumes Just 2 visits from memory by the local member In the past century To the war memorial, at the cemetery The train station was shut So the only way to get north of the border is by catching a bus But the bastards only stopped twice a week Roadhouse, got some yellow postcards I would roast in piece And the young mostly being in the city Gives the feeling that A home quickly becomes a house with paint peeling This fella was jovial It won't be all over till the last beers poured man It's it's more than ceremonial Our last cheers sure Raised our schooners in respect Had to jet, full moon Long road ahead Wind blowing through Ghosts in my head This lonely road Has been left for dead Wind blowing through Ghosts in my head This lonely road Has been left for dead