Текст песни The Whitlams - Youll Find a Way

Had a little bit to drink
There's a little thing I want to do out East
Nothing too emotional, my good miss
I couldn't be serious in a room full of jack-knfe eyes
Stop talking 'bout the years- you sound like Louis Burdett
And we roll on to my backshed, play some poker, scratch my head
Look at the sky and spot the planes, where would I go on holidays?
Roll with the punches, down the aisles, and down the street the weeks
roll by
I'm chewing ice and grinning, I'm spewing up and singing
It's billiousness as usual in my corner of the kitchen
Hey you, lose that friend before we go anywhere
What? Someone wmight see you alone?
Stop baggin' out the band, 'cause you sound like Louis Burdett
All my friends are fuck-ups but they're fun to have around, banana
chairs out on the concrete,
telling stories to the stars how Geminis love Wooden Dragons, and how
down the street the weeks roll by
The moment the night wears off, the bombsite reappears
They're all asleep but the morning tastes like wine,
It tastes like wine in Tempe
I feel so good I just might wake him up
Pat him on th bald head- tell me about a dream Louis, something obscene
Louis, your life's an open magazine Louis
I'm stoned in a bookshop, sober in a nightclub, sex is everywhere but
nowhere 'round me
By the time she gets to Marrickville we'll be masturbating
It never rains in Tempe but the planes remind me of family money and the
lack down here
Stop talking frustrated, 'cause I sound like Louis Burdett
And we roll on to my backshed, play some poker, scratch my head
Look at the sky and spot the planes, where would I go on holidays?
Roll with the punches, down the aisles, and down the street the weeks
roll by
All my friends are fuck-ups but they're fun to have around, banana
chairs out on the concrete,
telling stories to the stars how Geminis love Wooden Dragons, and how
down the street the weeks roll by
Most of my friends are very fruity indeed, such fun to have around
Terror, like charity, begins at home
Chris don't like the madness, but the madness likes him
He's got a finger in his chest saying how it should have been
And we roll on to my backshed, play some poker, scratch my head
Look at the sky and spot the planes, where would I go on holidays?
Roll with the punches, down the aisles, and down the street the weeks
roll by
My friends are completely fucked but they're such fun to have around
Banana chairs out on the concrete,
telling stories to the stars how Geminis love Wooden Dragons, and how
down the street the weeks roll by