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Midnight Oil Breathe Common Ground These are not dispassionate words of the cool The headline still rules the editor's a fool Shall we douse out the flames or will everybody fuse And leave us standing here tomorrow I heard a calling out. A cry from the heart From the towns of cement and no beauty A whisper it turned howl, man he didn't know He was standing waiting for tomorrow Nothing's left nothing's found there must be some common ground I could never figure the calendars flow Nor can I work out how the wild wind blows but I'm ready from within and we're starting to go Away from the place of no tomorrow Oh the wreching fields are a terrible place, with a sulphurous smell and a frightening pace and the hook goes in early and the critic is king and it's hard to stay human and stand in the ring there's no time to be absent, a clown or a fool While shylock is smiling we're loaded like mules If we surrender ourselves to industrial rules We'll wake up in the wreckage of tomorrow |
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