In the desert in the dry

before the breaking of the rain

the temperature in the shade

had reached a hundred and ten again



In the desert in the dry

on the overland telegraph line

don't take the law into your own hands

don't go looking for a fight



I've heard the bullroarers

in the desert in the sky

sun sits so high

long day's mile and the

radio crackles and the bones bleached withe



It's a knock-em-down storm

see the tin room shake

wild dog howls and the long grass

whistles and the tall trees break



I've seen the wild horses

I've heard the bullroarers

I've seen the wold horses



Shifting sands and broken plans

lead me on to my homeland