Texty: Midnight Oil. Spirit of the Age.

There's an SOS of real distress
Baby, tears at the best address
Ambulance chasers won't confess
Sun comes up and you're stuck

The ones and the zeros are flushing your pores
You've been flamed in the dark and you're feeling sore
The dripfeed rattle lures the innocent cattle
It's the only job around

Yeah, I know spirit of the age is coming home

A 747 is landing on your head
A hand reaches out and you find you're dead
Scared of the tarot and scared of the score
But you went in deep 'cause you needed more

But karma is a boomerang and here it comes again
Feels like the country is a going 'round the bend

There were a few blue singlets at the garage sale
But no one was cheering at the treasures they were clearing
Desperate fictions are in my book
Howl of the dashboard culture that shook

But karma is a boomerang and here it comes again
Feels like the country's just a going 'round the bend

Yeah, I know spirit of the age is coming home