Traveling in a fried-out combie, on a hippie trail, head full of zombie, I met a strange lady, she made me nervous. She took me in and gave me breakfast. And she said, Do you come from a land down under? Where women glow and men plunder? Cant you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover. Buying bread from a man in Brussels, he was six foot four and full of muscles. I said, Do you speak-a my language? He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich. And he said, I come from a land down under, where beer does flow and men chunder. Cant you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover. Lying in a den in Bombay with a slack jaw, and not much to say, I said to the man, Are you trying to tempt me because I come from the land of plenty? And he said, Oh! Do you come from a land down under? Where do you come from? How do your roots help to define who you are now? Do you want to tell that story, or listen to others? Hanoi Slam See you there!
Posted on: Mon, 17 Feb 2014 10:36:04 +0000
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