Here’s to the suburbs, of Western Sydney,
Those years that took the worst of me, made them something pretty.
It’s not so wrong the way I live, it’s not so wrong the way you live,
If we live together, we’ll all suffer much better.
When it was up to me I chose a change of scenery,
I flew west with best intentions, made the most of new consequences.
In my defense I’m building fences, sun’s almost set I’m feeling restless,
Property lines sure seem senseless, I just need a place to sit.
And rest a young bored mind, not borderline,
Diagnose by biased minds, pharmacies can buy,
When all men have a price, we decline,
Devalue human life.
Whenever it’s up to me, I’ll opt for the change of scenery,
It’s not life gets the best of me, I’m not getting the best of it.
Sometimes I’m bored sometimes I’m sad, sometimes the universe understands,
Sometimes it don’t I’m not mad, I’ll get the best of it.
God won’t speak through my guitar, I am not Jerry Garcia,
I have lived a life too far, away from signs, I’d deem clear,
I found clues amongst the news, there was life in chords and rhythm,
Six steel strings, words to sing, is all we need, to build heaven.
To the suburbs, of Western Sydney.
Those years that took the best of me, and made them something pretty,
To the suburbs, of Western Sydney
Those years that took the worst of me, showed me there’s nothing here left at,
Rock bottom for me.
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