If I had the wings of a sparrow if I had the arse of a crow I'd fly over Sydney tomorrow and sh*t on the bastards below below and sh*t on the bastards below. Repeat
I'm forever blowing bubbles, bubbles in the air they fly so
high they reach the sky but like Melbourne they fade and die.
Sydney's always running, Queenslands running to, but if you come to
the Tin Can we'll be running after you. WELLINGTON CLAP CLAP
CLAP
Choir lessons down the pub
Permalink
Permalink