The Herd - Full Moon lyrics

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

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

"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

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 visit's 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