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Better stop dreaming of the quiet life |
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'Cause it's the one we'll never know |
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And quit running for the runaway bus |
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'Cause those rosey days are few |
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And...stop apologising for the things you've never done |
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'Cause time is short and life is cruel |
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But it's up to us to change |
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This town called Malice |
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Rows and rows of disused milk floats |
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Stand dying in the dairy yard |
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And a hundred lonely housewives |
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Clutch empty milk bottles to their hearts |
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Hanging out their old love letters on the line to dry |
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It's enough to make you stop believing |
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When tears come fast and furious |
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In a town called Malice |
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Yeah |
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Struggle after struggle, year after year |
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The atmosphere's a fine blend of ice |
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I'm almost stone cold dead |
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In a town called Malice |
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Ooh, yeah |
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A whole street's belief in Sunday's roast beef |
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Gets dashed against the co-op |
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To either cut down on beer or the kids' new gear |
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It's a big decision in a town called Malice |
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Ooh, yeah |
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Ooh |
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The ghost of a steam train echoes down my track |
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It's at the moment bound for nowhere |
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Just going 'round and 'round, oh |
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Playground kids and creaking swings |
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Lost laughter in the breeze |
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I could go on for hours and I probably will |
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But I'd sooner put some joy back in |
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This town called Malice, ooh |
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This town called Malice, yeah |
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This town called Malice |
