Bells And Horns In The Back Of Beyond

The Southern Aurora was late again
 As I waited at Central to take you home
 Winking, spinning, sparkling lights on our flat earth
 Told you 'bout the old groundling ways
 Where the suburbs summer play in wrinkled sand
 And never, never, never, never land
 I get home, I see match, I drive down
 I look out, I see those lines and lines and lines of swell and smile
 Coolangatta, what's the matter?
 Paradise, it's surfers' worse, as flashing lights and real estate, one last wave
 Ah, get up and run
 'Cause there's a beach lies quiet near the open sea
 And a car park lay stretched where the bindiis used to be
 When will I be yours?
 When will I be mine?
 When will I be yours?
 When will I be mine?
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 (One, two, one, two, three, four)