Full Moon

[Verse 1] We pulled in that town by the bypass That you drive past without a second glance She's had her last dance Yeah we took our chance on a street about four lanes wide Dead quiet seven or eight at night She was the 1985 tidy town winner But now it's quiet after five you can't find dinner Potholed roads just as the locals like it Some top spots near by spoken of on a quiet tip And the hire car felt the bumps The only light was at the pub Shrug of the shoulders we headed in for counter grub "Unlucky son the missus has gone off to bed I can do a bowl of chips or some butter on bread" Sweet n' four schooies, three lemon-lime and bitters One for the driver, two for the big hitters And we eat quick as if it's last drinks "Bar shuts at nine" he said, after I asked him [Hook] Wind blowing through, ghost in my head This lonely road, has been left for dead Wind blowing through, ghost in my head This lonely road, has been left for dead [Verse 2] "A game of darts" the fella asked the only drinker in the place An older bloke with worry lines that made a roadmap of his face Now he could see that we were blow-ins But was showing hospitality Gradually we warmed when he chalked up a tally He stammered a little hammered, but totally balancing He leaned over and added "Hey you up for a challenge? Test your talent, but what you say you tell me a tale" Tried his hand on the land, freight job with state rail He said "This was town of industry so many years back But black years of drought and fire have left some fierce cracks" He says "You youngins probably don't wanna year that I served in New Guinea, believe me son we adapt" It's nothing to be sneered at, we all fought It was a busy boom town now become back water It went Telstra, NAB then Australia post But when that bypass went in Thats when we failed the most [Hook] [Verse 3] Formerly a town of bushrangers I felt like a stranger The air thin as the area paper Days feel long as The Hume, few semis through Never thought they'd see the day they give thanks for diesel fumes Just two visits from memory by the local member In the past century, to the war memorial at the cemetery The train stations shut So the only way to get north of the border is by catching a bus But the bastards only stop twice a week Roadhouse, got some yellow postcards of roast and peas And the young mostly being city gives the feeling That a home quickly becomes a house with paint pealing This fellow was jovial It won't be all over till the last beer's poured Man, it's more than ceremonial Our last cheers sure, raised our schooner's in respect Had to jet full moon, long road ahead [Hook]