[Verse 1:]

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



[Chorus:]

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



[Verse 2:]

"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



[Chorus]



[Verse 3:]

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 visits 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



[Chorus]