| I knocked your mother up in the dunnies at the White Cockatoo
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| And then we had you, I didn’t know what to do
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| Now time is unwindin' at pace so the bullet train to
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| Melbourne is due any decade soon
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| By April, we’ll have run the bastards out and made a clear path
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| Me and your mum verse the pricks on the warpath
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| By April, we’ll clean up the air; |
| by April, we’ll be ready then
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| By April, we’ll have landed on a name: Edith, or Alistair
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| I’ll clean the house and make the bed
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| And buy the bread and comb your hair
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| I’ll let you sleep, I’ll sleep in shifts, I’ll clean up all the shit you shit
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| I’ll remember what I wanted when I was like you way back when
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| Keep listenin' and readin', bein' patient when you’re out of breath
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| Whatever you need me to do, I’d be happy to
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| By April, we’ll have sorted out a place with gas cooktops
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| By April, every arsehole in the world, we’ll have 'em locked up
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| That’s five months away
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| You’ve just gotta use your humour voice through folds of skin
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| I haven’t quite decided yet just what it is I’d wanna sing
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| My writing’s shit
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| My writing’s always cut through with somethin' bleak
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| Once I have kids, is that something that I am still allowed to think?
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| My voice is murmurin', my voice is murmurin' through folds of skin
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| My voice is murmurin', my voice is murmurin' through folds of skin
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| My voice is murmurin', my voice is murmurin' through folds of skin
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| I haven’t quite decided yet just what it is I’d wanna sing
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| Here’s a little world, here’s the big one
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| What’s «heck you» but a him or her to heck you?
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| But lookin' forward to meeting you
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| 'Cause I knocked your mother up
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| In the dunnies at the White Cockatoo
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| And then we had you, it’s so fuckin' soon
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| And time is unravellin', the daycare’s booked, the car seat too
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| All we need now is you, you’ll be brand new
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| 'Cause I knocked your mother up
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| In the dunnies at the White Cockatoo |