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Brought up in a world of changes |
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Part time cleaner in a holiday flat |
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Stare out to sea at the ships at night |
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No anaesthesia, I'm gonna work on it day to day |
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No zephyr no light relief it seems |
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But maybe it's a dream |
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I'm lying back in a row of timber cases placed out |
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On the dock with nightmare faces looking at me |
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And I can see now, and I wanna be free now |
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This is my home |
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This is my sea |
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Don't paint it with the future, of factories |
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I want to stay, I feel okay |
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There's nothing else as perfect |
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I'll have my way |
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Brought up in a world of changes |
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Waste product, pedestrian, limb from limb |
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Short changed by the surfing priest again |
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Two children in the harbour |
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They play their game stormwater drain |
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Write their contract in the sand, it'll be gray for life |
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But you can draw the blind |
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But you can't stop the sun |
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From shining on and on and getting you there |
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Tide forever beckons you to leave |
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But something holds you back |
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It's not the promise of the swell or a girl |
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Just a hope that someday someway it'll be okay |
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So you stop and say |
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This is my home |
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This is my sea |
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Don't paint it with the future of factories |
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This is my life |
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this is my right |
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I'll make it what I want to |
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I'll stay and I'll fight |
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(Moginie/Garrett) |
