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Cut to the Quick- Lyrics

WORKING GIRLS (Schumann)

She said she came from Portland
Where the ashen skies and leaden ocean
Left her like the local boys, baron of emotion
As we talked we watched the raindrops running down the window
The laundromat in Darlinghurst, like a fish shop from the past

And her mother called her Mary
After Mary Magdalene
To deny her beauty, would have been the greatest sin
There was a profile in the neon
And a Kings Cross doorway lean
To half an hour of tending someone elses tangled dream

And there were lines of sailors
Lines of speed
Lines upon the footpath
Where she stared, when things were quiet,
As night deferred to dawn
And the coke cups played red rover,
in the breeze that scuttled through the streets
Taxis left for greener fields
While Sydney stretched and yawned

And her mother called her Mary
After Mary Magdalene
There were virgins in the morning
She had sisters in the pain
And the wives would clutch their husbands
As they passed her on the street
Perhaps it was her honesty
Perhaps they shared the shame
Working streets and wedding rings
Are sometimes much the same

Tap dance with the buskers
Near the subway
Shouting blues songs
They remembered from their teenage years of dreamtime radio
And the years withdrew behind her eyes
To let the little girl look out
In simple childish innocence
At drawings in the sand

And her mother called her Mary
After Mary Magdalene
She had long dark hair and massage oil
And a key to let you in
And the lines upon her face
Were maps of roads she'd travelled
Line with people throwing stones
'Cause they didnt understand
That half an hour of tenderness
Perhaps they shared the shame
because working streets and wedding rings
Are sometimes much the same
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FABULON (Trad/Byrne/Redgum)

Buy a litre of Fabulon
Dare we spray down
In the scorched trail
of a Sunbream iron

Paint your face with Revlon
To hide your frown
In the blue gloam glare
Of your Rank Television

Carry it away from Myers now
Requiring of us a lon
How can we live without these things
in Templestowe

Buy an electric toothbrush for your mouth
Roche medication for your heart
You'll be comfortable locked uptight
In your sauna

Let the third world rabble on
If dishwasher breaks down
An eyeful of Visine
A floral tissue to cry on

In the valley of Silicon
Where we may drown
And there we leapt
Into blind oblivion

Carry it away from Tandy now
A computer of your own
How can we live without a VDU
And a life programme

A bottle of Listerine for your mouth
A pair of Adidas for your heard
You'll be comfortable locked uptight
In your wardrobe

Buy a litre of Fabulon
Dare we spray down
In the scorched trail
of a Sunbream iron
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WHERE YA GONNA RUN TO (Schumann)

Mother and child playing on the lawn
It's a middle class home on a Sunday morning
And the mother says, son, where ya gonna run
Where ya gonna run to now?

I just jumped bail on a dope bust mum
And I'm saying goodbye and then the drug squad come
And in the name of the law
They punch him in the jaw
Where ya gonna run to now?

A long white car out of Tullamarine
A government member to the Carribean
And a man with a broom
Yells across the room
Where ya gonna run to now?

Will you have to tell lies when the kids ask you why
The horizon's a blanket of gloom
When the battle lines draw
Which way will you turn

Terania Creek's got a dozer track
And we'll never ever get Lake Pedder back
A director and a graph
And a million dollar laugh
Where ya gonna run to now?

Enrich the oxide out of Port Pirie
And the toxic gases they won't even see
But where ya gonna go
When the North wind blows
Where ya gonna run to now?

And your loungeroom is screening Nationwide
And you've just given blood to the bank
And the books on your shelves
Are a measure of all that you've earned
Will you have to tell lies when the kids ask you why
The horizon's a blanket of gloom
When the battle lines draw
Which way will you turn

Shake me, wake me, tell me it's a dream
I've got a B-52 on my TV screen
And a man in a tie
Pointing to the sky
Where ya gonna run to now

Mother and child playing on the lawn
It's a middle class home on a Sunday morning
And the mother says, son, where ya gonna run
Where ya gonna run to now?
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