The Truth



Well on the day that Lucas Heights blew off its roof into the sky
and all the pretty Sydney lights went out and the air-con it ran dry
I sat high up in my unit looking out on Coogee Beach
as life below ground to a halt, with a fearsome anguished screech

Well I’d just logged off the Internet and turned on my TV
I was about to watch a movie on my brandnew DVD
when my dishwasher, my dryer and my trusty microwave
my stereo cut out, my flat it went quiet as a grave

Well I sat there speechless, thunderstruck, my mobile in my hand
I found the silence on the other side too hard to comprehend
for my busy lifestyle leaves no time to put food in the fridge
I always dial my dinner in, from the tuckshop by the bridge

Well I waded through my carpet wall to wall two inches thick
I tried to graze upon the fibres but they only made me sick
my remote control French doors shut out my million dollar view
just like Picasso on my wall, my face started to turn blue

Well I’d been stuck inside my place for forty-eight hours or more
cos my alarm it seemed securely barred all exit from my door
with no elevator to escape my cell of polished brass
despairingly I grabbed a chair, and I smashed the window glass

Well I tied into a rope all my Armani bedroom sheets
I abseiled off my balcony and scaled the wall down to the streets
when I staggered to the beach where tankers sank for lack of light
my shaking hands found fish with gills full of oil black as the night

So I better have myself another bite of hardcore plastic
let me see if this will make me break another tooth
once you get the hang of it those whitegoods taste fantastic
I’ve never had a better meal, now isn’t that the truth



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