that drivers my brothers mate

burnt out like a man not a car at all.
revving pointless drawing a five point star,
humming around the west-australian drawl
you seem no hard cash prize-winner at all?
hey a turquoise torana; think you are
burnt out like a man, not a car at all.
word about says you’re headed for a fall
guy with the VB t-shirt heard the call
humming around the west-australian drawl
& a shitload of crushed cans (you can’t drink)
so like who the hell do you think you are?
burnt out like a man not a car – at all
points on the square there’s a deathly black pall
& rubber snow-flakes send the smell of car
humming round the west-australian drawl;
people wonder what mob-rule ought to think
then you’re engine explodes: lands on the tar
burnt out like a man. not a car at all
humming around the west-australian drawl.

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