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Travelling in a fried-out combie |
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On a hippie trail, head full of zombie |
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I met a strange lady, she made me nervous |
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Took me in and gave me breakfast |
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And she said, |
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"Do you come from a land down under? |
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Where women glow and men plunder? |
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Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder? |
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You better run, you better take cover." |
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Buying bread from a man in Brussels |
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He was six foot four, full of muscles |
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I said, "Do you speak-a my language?" |
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He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich |
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He said, |
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"I come from a land down under |
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Where beer does flow and men chunder |
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Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder? |
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You better run, you better take cover." |
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Lying in a den in Bombay |
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With a slack jaw, not much to say |
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I said to the man, "Are you trying to tempt me |
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Cause I come from the land of plenty?" |
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He said, |
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Do you come from a land down under? |
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Where women glow and men plunder? |
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Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder? |
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You better run, you better take cover. |
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You better run, you better take cover. |
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You better run, you better take cover. |
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You better run, you better take cover. " |
