Where the past meets the present we walk hand in hand,
Barefoot and naked--but kings of our land,
The souls of my forefathers course through my veins as I watch the
sun sink 'neath these ancestral plains.
Outcast in the outback--forgotten by time,
Lie the fragile remains of a world that was mine.
What money could not buy--the strong chose to steal,
To them power and riches were all that was real.
Then sold into slavery (iron-ore digger),
I am your 'abbo'--your lacky--your 'nigger.'
Awaken the neo-neanderthal man that sleeps within all of us touched by his
hand,
He's the last grain of hope left unspoilt by our games--so tread
soft in his footsteps and whisper his name.
A DREAMTIME WALKABOUT--is all that remains of the past,
A DREAMTIME WALKABOUT--the 'missing link' holds the chain fast.
Watch us skip the dark fantastic--silhouettes against the sky,
Bodies bathed in starlit twilight--high above our spirits fly.
Every picture tells a tale of hidden wisdom they have found,
Man is just a part of nature--not the other way around.
This 'savage' nobility rule without thrones,
And by birthright inherit things we'll never own.
Though progress encroaches--the last of their kind still reach
from their bodies with prehensile minds.
We sons of the wilderness--unchained and free,
Cast our spirits to fly with the birds through the trees.
(See a bloodline that extends from Genesis to fiery end).
