Listen Close

Can you feel the change in the air

I never could took a second look now I see it everywhere

Today moving so fast becomes yesteryear

And if you can't keep up well then you disappear

I see the lonely old buildings round my way

Slowly fall into a state of disrepair

Then the real estate buy it up sell it off knock it down

Then it's gone like it was never there does anybody care

Wood brickwork and steel laid bare

Like the city's broken bones exposed to the open air

And their I am the heir apparent

Surveying the damage as my neighbourhood vanishes

Without a trace-an unsolved mystery

Whole decades erased instantly

No room for sympathy in the pursuit of efficiency

The legacy of a colonial dynasty

In a city still growing out it's infancy

Built on invasion displacement and misery

Foundations laid by blood sweat and industry

Of convicts inspired by aspirations on liberty

Before that history goes to the grave

I listen close to the whispers of the ghosts of yesterday

From beneath the coats of paint they speak

Empty shop-fronts the faded evidence of a generation's dreams

And on a still night if you listen close

You can still hear the whispers of the ghosts

Seek it out and you'll find that it's all around you

The sound of that which was handed down

And on a still night if you listen close

You can still hear the whispers of the ghosts

Know where we've been to grasp where we're headed

Looking at the past from the present

And on a still night if you listen close

You can still hear the whispers of the ghosts

Now the signs in the street say for lease or for sale

An invitation to dream a reminder of those who failed

A long way from land grants rations and dirt trails

Disillusionment's still in fashion in New South Wales

Rusted iron rubble and chipped paint

Signs of urban decay in a withered landscape

I see it everyday the heritage fades

Gentrification nothing's gonna get in the way

Of this concept that we call progress

Locked in a contest with our superiority complex

Monuments to man's dominance are the imagery

Scaffolding sketches out the blueprints of visionaries

In a city still growing out it's infancy

Built on invasion displacement and bigotry

Foundations laid by cold-blooded killing spree's

Severed heads sent back on ships for the king to see

Before that history goes to the grave

I listen close to the whispers of the ghosts of yesterday

From beneath the coats of paint they speak

Empty shop-fronts the faded evidence of a generation's dreams

I stay playing these beats on the same train platform

That Lawson waited on watching faces in the street

Except that somehow the scene appears differently

Soaked under the cold pale glow of electricity

So Before that history goes to the grave

I listen close to the whispers of the ghosts of yesterday

From beneath the coats of paint they speak

Empty shop-fronts the faded evidence of a generation's dreams

But I know this city I've felt its heart beat

Watched life breathe through the cracks in the concrete

Where it stops is beyond me