Rush hour came crawling out of he best laid plans of noon
The vodka in the fridge at home sang with a haunting tune.
But I haven’t heard a song I love in seven weeks or more
I wonder if that little bird won’t land here no more
You can’t count years in the ocean in the dying days of June

I’ve gone three miles in second gear now i’m down to first
Bring me a little water Sylvie, dying here of thirst
How can I tear he bottom out of these ass-drag blues
If I cannot hack it here can I go back to paying dues
You can’t count tears in the ocean in the dying days of June

Leave me here for dead is the song of my sigh as I pull off at Queensland beach and let the traffic by
A southern breeze sings me home I wade in a western tune.
The sea may rake my sorrow back but it come crashing back too soon
You can’t count tears in the ocean in the dying days of June