The Southern Aurora was late again
  As I waited at central to take you home
  Winking spinning sparkling lights on our flat earth
  You talk about the old groundling ways
  Where the suburbs summer pulse and play in wrinkled sand and
  never never never neverland
  I get home I see them drive down
  I look out and see those lines and lines and lines of swell and
  smiles
  Coolangatta, what's the matter?
  Paradise, it's a surfer's world and flashing lights and real
  estate
  With one last wave
  Ahhh, get up and run
  'Cause there's a beach lies quiet near the open sea
  And a carpark lay streched where the bindis used to be
  When will I be yours
  When will I be mine