How They Made Us

It's a midwinter Friday and there's not a car on this highway That wouldn't hit me just to get home I'm riding punch lines and dregs from the pouch that we split Somewhere back on Punt Road And the big neon signs they all intertwine With the passing cars' headlights burning my eyes In this city of excuses, dead palm trees and useless transport I use my legs to get to you on time But silence speaks louder than words that we don't understand And I know the language is made out of One-upmanship and sleight of hand But it's all we've got to explain how they made us Unable to explain how they made us Unable to explain how they And I'm naked except for donations, rank revelations My own bad behavior, pissing off the neighbours Lying to colleagues about how interesting I am Just so part of me is nothing like them and The clubs up on Swan Street pulse to the backbeat of violence and sadness and god awful sweat heat They tarnish reputations and they smash up train stations So angry they forgot what they were angry about This city is a punching bag for the punished to let something out But how can you stay mad when the red sun spits straight through the clouds like this? And the cold bites my skin And you bite my upper lip