| Children mustn’t know that we’re living in a city that’s built on bones |
| All the army go, please enjoy this city before it explodes |
| Here we here we go, it’s a pity it’s a feeling I can’t control |
| The children mustn’t know this is adults only |
| Adults only |
| Adults only |
| Kookaburra sits in a tree I named |
| You can feel the sorrow, I can feel the shame |
| Cause there’s no-one laughing round here no more but he |
| I flew back to the coast on New Year’s Day |
| Little plane tossed 'round by a southerly |
| And when I stepped outside the streets were clean |
| But I know deep down lies undiscovered |
| Past the bone foundations of a town corrupted |
| Under creaking piers, under iron cover |
| Past the concrete crown of a million lovers |
| Past strutting and swagger, under coreless rubble |
| Past torn down shanties of forgotten troubles |
| Through its ills and evils, past rants and ravings |
| Lies the cold dark soul of an emerald city, I |
| Children mustn’t know that we’re living in a city that’s built on bones |
| All the army go, please enjoy this city before it explodes |
| Here we here we go, it’s a pity it’s a feeling I can’t control |
| The children mustn’t know this is adults only |
| Adults only |
| Walking through the streets I can feel its sting |
| Metal blue snakes screaming round this head I’m in |
| Keeps railing all the way to bed |
| And from the time it sleeps to its dawn awake |
| City’s dreams rang out like a melody |
| «I finally recognize the tune,» he said |
| Through fears and fervour, past lies and secrets |
| Of ink stain panic stricken 5 star heathens |
| Under storms of hell, through tropical fevers |
| Excitement of the first days of bushfire seasons |
| All this planning disasters, monuments to the masters |
| And the dog dark dealings of its backroom bastards |
| Every long lost dream, every failed endeavour |
| Every ice beer trail of a rum rebellion |
| Now I, huddle these feelings of pity |
| Watching new years colours rain down on the city |
| Where our beautiful beaches suffer photo ops |
| To watch schizophrenic tourists get shot by cops |
| Generation of kids with the toughest teeth |
| Still haunted by the visions of shocking ink |
| Where little old ladies die afraid and alone |
| Now surrounded by yuppies small bars and coke, I |
| Children mustn’t know that we’re living in a city that’s built on bones |
| All the army go, please enjoy this city before it explodes |
| Here we here we go, it’s a pity it’s a feeling I can’t control |
| The children mustn’t know this is adults only |
| Adults only |
| Adults only |
| Adults only |