better stop dreaming of the quiet life -
cos it´s the one we´ll never know
and quit running for that runaway bus -
cos those rosey days are few
and - stop apologising for the things you´ve never done,
cos time is short and life is cruel -
but it´s up to us to change
this town called malice.
rows and rows of disused milk floats
stand dying in the dairy yard
and a hundred lonely housewives clutch empty milk
bottles to their hearts
hanging out their old love letters on the line to dry
it´s enough to make you stop believing when tears come
fast and furious
in a town called malice.

struggle after struggle - year after year
the atmosphere´s a fine blend of ice -
i´m almost stone cold dead
in a town called malice.

a whole street´s belief in sunday´s roast beef
gets dashed against the co-op
to either cut down on beer or the kids new gear
it´s a big decision in a town called malice.

the ghost of a steam train - echoes down my track
it´s at the moment bound for nowhere -
just going round and round
playground kids and creaking swings -
lost laughter in the breeze
i could go on for hours and i probably will -
but i´d sooner put some joy back
in this town called malice.