Husnain Gujjar

A church house, gin houseA school house, outhouseOn Highway Number NineteenThe people keep the city cleanThey call it NutbushOh, NutbushCall […]

We will fly, way up highWhere the cold wind blowsOr in the sun laughing having funWith the people that she

Finished with my woman ’causeShe couldn’t help me with my mindPeople think I’m insane becauseI am frowning all the time

Good old Collingwood forever,We know how to play the game.Side by side we stick together,To uphold The Magpies name.Hear the

Freezin’, rests his headOn a pillow made of concrete, againOh, feelin’, maybe he’ll seeA little better set a days, ooh

Come on EileenCome on EileenPoor old Johnny RaySounded sad upon the radioHe moved a million hearts in monoOur mothers usedTo

John Travolta( John Joseph Travolta ) John Travolta – Greased Lightnin’Why this car is automaticIt’s systematicIt’s hydromaticWhy it’s grease lightning

Schoolbag in handShe leaves home in the early morningWaving goodbye with an absent-minded smile I watch her goWith a surge

I came from the dreamtime from the dusty red soil plainsI am the ancient heart, the keeper of the flameI

She said, hello misterPleased to meet youI wanna hold herI wanna kiss herShe smelled of daisiesShe smelled of daisiesShe drive