| Traveling in a fried-out Kombi
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| On a hippie trail, head full of zombie
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| I met a strange lady, she made me nervous
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| She took me in and gave me breakfast
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| And she said
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| Do you come from a land down under
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| Where women glow and men plunder
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| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
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| You better run, you better take cover
 | 
| Buying bread from a man in Brussels
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| He was six-foot-four and full of muscles
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| I said, do you speak-a my language
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| He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich
 | 
| And he said
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| I come from a land down under
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| Where beer does flow and men chunder
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| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
 | 
| You better run, you better take cover
 | 
| Lyin' in a den in Bombay
 | 
| With a slack jaw, and not much to say
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| I said to the man, are you trying to tempt me
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| Because I come from the land of plenty
 | 
| And he said
 | 
| Do you come from a land down under
 | 
| Where women glow and men plunder
 | 
| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
 | 
| You better run, you better take cover
 | 
| Do you come from a land down under
 | 
| Where women glow and men plunder
 | 
| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
 | 
| You better run, you better take cover
 | 
| Do you come from a land down under
 | 
| Where women glow and men plunder
 | 
| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
 | 
| You better run, you better take cover
 | 
| Do you come from a land down under
 | 
| Where women glow and men plunder
 | 
| Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder
 | 
| You better run, you better take cover |