It's a corrugated highway leading north from Port Augusta line
With ratted cars that didn't rate a tow
Salt plains out of Pimba and your eyes begin to stream
Onto Kingoonya, huddled dusty by the road
(Progression 1)
Someone mentioned walkabout, kiss your job goodbye
Just to see the country shimmer through the windscreen
Drinking beer telling stories while laughter filled the night
Flexitimes behind you like a bad dream
(Progression 1)
Politicians sell its heart just for a pasttime
Signs and highwire fences of a land where I belong
For the last time (uh-huh) (x4)