Horrorshow - own backyard
Tension simmers from the white hot heat of the cold hard truth That I never heard up in no classroom Coming to understand, that I got blood on my hands Cost of living in this sunburnt land From the sands of the coast to the bush We advanced as we came And we pushed as they pulled so we took And what we gave in exchange Plague, disease and poison in the bottle No question, blood stains the wattle Was it like a game of hide and seek? Stalking through the bush silently Cos society told em to do it quietly From the Apple Isle to the Myall Creek Gun barrels rang out and put an end to what might've been Genocide, lies, deceit, rape and massacre Systematic assassination of character Acts of depravity disguised as charity All in the name of civilising humanity Children snatched away from their families Pain resonates leaving untold casualties Protection boards and half castes The truth is the flag ought fly at half mast It's a dark past buried in our own backyard Still I can't stand the thought that it's all too hard Or the heartless catch cry that "it's all in the past" Yo that sounds like a coward's remarks This is happening right now, outback third world conditions That never seem to make our televisions Screens to congested with the rhetoric of politicians Grandiose claims about Australian traditions Enquiries and royal commissions That are yet follow through to a conviction Loyal subjects protected by the system Too many dying in our prisons Like a Palm Island man left lying on a cold cell floor While the people looked for justice in a makeshift court The response just stopped short of martial law With the riot squad kicking down doors I remember at fifteen, walking through The Block, feeling nervous Cos my whole life I'd heard that it was risky The racist in me, what a crock of shit I stopped to think the opposite when the streets burned for T.J Hickey Don't ask why, what's the use in that? Cops roll past in red, white and blue of the Union Jack Subtile oppression, bubbling menace Maintain the presence, make the population feel threatened Now fate beckons, hear the echoes As the pain resonates devastation Every January 26 I'm torn between wanting to celebrate And hang my head in shame There's gotta be a better way, let me say |