Well it’s a petrol station nightmare and I’m pumping gasoline
The heat is so oppressive that it makes me feel unclean
The flies take brief siestas in my half-filled coffee cup
Someone comes, I say “Hello”. They say, “Fill ‘er up.”
I’m just out past Yagoona, out ’round Bass Hill way
Petrol fumes and country tunes, they fill my head all day
Where the Skyline’s just a drive-in, the horizon’s just a haze
The petrol pump feels like a gun and I feel out of phase.
Sometimes at night I lie awake dreaming half born thoughts
Of petrol station nightmares and things I thought I’d lost
Of empty cars that line the streets, thousands in the host
Burnt out frames of old Fairlanes filled with sleepless ghosts.
blackmarksonawhitepage 