Too sick for breakfast
The car wouldn't start
The train was really full
No he didn't want to work
The houses all the same
Now here's the rain
Not falling it's collapsing at his feet
A deep breath and he clocks on
Raincoat on his arm
He wishes the hours would disappear
But the trip's in vain coz awaiting him
A lay-off notice and his severance pay
He shuffles back to the train again

You gotta love this city.

the days he lies in bed
nothing in his head
not for pray
time to rise and take them on
so he tracks on
tracks on in the town
his never down
when his walking one in hundred in a crowd
The girls are pretty and the lights are bright
and its truth and dear
in a one big night
here he loves his city

Hold in court in Taylors square proper
the man he could become
Lear's Fool is a bum now
With seven holy parcels by his side

You gotta love this city

(excerpts from "You gotta love this city" by The Whitlams.