No Name
This country is dead
some call it australia
some call it home
This is the Wasteland
dead, cruel, breeding
frightened people, right of the world
The heart is a red rock
with a black shadow, where lives
are always according to order
I see the unreal city
walking in a trance
the landscape, smothering
The big water, now corrupt
the roots of plants on its shore
exposed
In the town I called home
the streets run white
with blood.
Rob Kennedy
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