[Verse 1: Mathas]
Born in the red dust, Aus custom
Many Blackfellas know more but we hushed ‘em
Gagged ‘em, shut ‘em up, stuck a sock in the cakehole
Let ‘em chew fat with the rest of us
Fake snack labrats, in a snake hole
Plugged up with a cork
And a fork into an abortion of food
With the force and the proof of a self-made suit
Science won’t let the decay take place
Prolonged lifetime of a dry-aged stake
In the money pool swimmin’ in the green privilеge
Gobblin’ a composite, no fresh green
Keep thosе greens in a place unseen
So they fiend for the fat and the salt and the sweet
Finger Lime, Desert Lime, Illawarra Plum
Mountain Pepper, Quandong, Witchetty Grub
All Aus delicates go unsung
Rung through the price point, never see sun
I do not know a single recipe
Do not know an elder to ask
Do not speak a word of tongue
Of all my country’s timeless past
A single ritual song or dance
About that burning fire side
Seems there is no merit here
In trading in amongst our tribe
Am I right?
Yeah, well alright then
[Chorus: Abbe May & Mathas]
Someone made our sustenance
Foul in the board room
Clocking on the hour
In search of power
Age old recipes
Buried in book piles
Set alight to fuel
Conveyor belt lines
We will never form a culture
In a tradeless tribe
[Verse 2: Mathas]
And that’s textbook modern Aus, no loss
Borrowed cup of sugar from the next door knock
Iceberg lettuce in a bowl with a block
Of tasty cheddar and a steak or a chop
I’ve never had a belly full of Pepperberry
Any epidemic from the ships helped kill it off quick
When they shook hands with us and traded tricks
And we shook back hellfire, stole their kids
No preach here, just a little pop quiz
For me and my flock and the box that we’re in
The exact same fact game shovelled to the kids
In a lunchbox chips, white sugar, box drink
I’ve never made a meal with a Noongar touch
I’ve never heard a story that came before us
Out loud in a class or curriculum
I think you’ll find they, they train you up and spit you out
Gobble up a gallon of whatever cheap kick you’re on
Sick you up, prep your fists
To never greet a brother with a hug and a bumped fist
They’re clever to the point of predatorial numbness
I’ve livin’ on the largest island
Where trees still exist from the times of Gondwana
But the past is pardoned
For the turf and the birth of the pale home armoured
And we’re ponderin’ karma
Prayin’ for calm within a safehouse, livin’ a craze out regardless
Pullin’ a six out the bar fridge
Heads down when a council park is passin’
No eye contact you bastard
Listen to your boss in a tradeless Aus
And borrow all the culture
You can get your hands on
[Chorus: Abbe May & Mathas]
Someone made our sustenance
Foul in the board room
Clocking on the hour
In search of power
Age old recipes
Buried in book piles
Set alight to fuel
Conveyor belt lines
We will never form a culture
In a tradeless tribe