Full Moon

We pulled in at 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, 7 to 8 at night (right)

She was the 1985 tidy town winner
But now it's quiet after 5, you can't find dinner
Potholed roads, just as the locals like it
Some top spots nearby, spoken of in a quiet tip

In the hire car, felt the bumps
The only light was in the pub (ah)
Shrug of the shoulders
We headed in for counter grub

Unlucky son, the missus gone off to bed
I could do a bowl of chips
Or some butter and bread

Sweetened 4 schooeys, 3 lemon lime bitters
1 for the driver, 2 for the beat hitters
And we eat quick as if it's the last drinks
(Bar shuts at 9) he said after I asked him

Wind blowing through
Ghosts in my head
This lonely road
Has been left for dead

Wind blowing through
Ghosts in my head
This lonely road
Has been left for dead

A game of darts, a fella asked the only drinker in the place
An older bloke with worry lines that make a roadmap of his face

Now he could see that we were blow ins, but was showin' hospitality
And gradually we warmed, went and chalked up a tally

He stammered a little, hammered but totally balanced
He leaned over and outed, are you up for a challenge?

Shows your talent, but what you say tell me a tale
Tried his hand on the land, great job at state rail

(He said) this was a town of industry
So many years back
But black years of drought and fire
Have left some fears cracked

He says you younguns probably don't wanna hear that
I served in New Guinea believe me son, we adapt
It's nothing to be sneered at (no)

We all thought was a busy boom town
Now become a backwater
It went Telstra, NAB then Australia Post
When that bypass went in's when we failed the most

Wind blowing through
Ghosts in my head
This lonely road
Has been left for dead

Wind blowing through
Ghosts in my head
This lonely road
Has been left for dead

Formerly a town of bush rangers
I felt like a stranger
The air thin as the area paper

Days feel long as the Hume
He sent these through
Never thought they'd see the day
They gave thanks for diesel fumes

Just 2 visits from memory by the local member
In the past century
To the war memorial, at the cemetery

The train station was shut
So the only way to get north of the border is by catching a bus

But the bastards only stopped twice a week
Roadhouse, got some yellow postcards
I would roast in piece

And the young mostly being in the city
Gives the feeling that
A home quickly becomes a house with paint peeling

This fella was jovial
It won't be all over till the last beers poured man
It's it's more than ceremonial

Our last cheers sure
Raised our schooners in respect
Had to jet, full moon
Long road ahead

Wind blowing through
Ghosts in my head
This lonely road
Has been left for dead

Wind blowing through
Ghosts in my head
This lonely road
Has been left for dead