In the desert in the dry
before the breaking of the rain
the temperature in the shade
had reached a hundred and ten again
In the desert in the dry
on the overland telegraph line
don't take the law into your own hands
don't go looking for a fight
I've heard the bullroarers
in the desert in the sky
sun sits so high
long day's mile and the
radio crackles and the bones bleached withe
It's a knock-em-down storm
see the tin room shake
wild dog howls and the long grass
whistles and the tall trees break
I've seen the wild horses
I've heard the bullroarers
I've seen the wold horses
Shifting sands and broken plans
lead me on to my homeland
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