I think I hear the sounds of themAnd people talking, the scenes recalledBy minute movement, the songs they fallFrom the back and takeThat certain texture, that certain smellLying sweat on familiar sheetsIn brick veneer on finest bedsIn a room of silent artifactsThat certain texture, that certain smellBrings home the heavy daysBrings home the nighttime swellOut on the patio we sitAnd the humidity we breatheWe watch the lightning crack on the cane fieldsLaugh and think, this is AustraliaLife is awkward, it faces westWith long diagonalsAnd smoke and twoIn the distance through the heat hazeIn convoys of silence the cattle grazeThat certain texture, that certain beatBrings forth the nighttime heatOut on the patio we sitAnd the humidity we breatheWe watch the lightning crack on the cane fieldsLaugh and think, this is AustraliaAnd the humidity we breatheBrings home the nighttime swellOut on the patio we sitAnd the humidity we breatheWe watch the lightning crack on the cane fieldsOut on the patio we sitAnd the humidity we breatheWe watch the lightning crack over cane fieldsLaugh and think this is AustraliaOut on the patio we sitAnd the humidity we breatheWe watch the lightning crack over cane fieldsLaugh and think this is AustraliaOut on the patio we sitAnd the humidity we breatheWe watch the lightning crack over cane fieldsLaugh and think this is AustraliaThis is Australia