Blood and bone bake on the bitumen
She's at the counter counting cars as they pull in
Cream coloured cotton clings to her skin
Its forty degrees in the shade
The sun rises early and the evening comes late
As truckers come travelling driving freight interstate
Far from the arms of the wives they hate
On these long hot Tarcutta Days
Tarcutta Days, Tarcutta Days
Forty degrees in the Tarcutta shade
The Tarcutta shade, Tarcutta shade
On these Tarcutta days
Outside the boys sit stoned in a commodore
Watching time crawl by across the forecourt floor
She fixes her hair in the microwave door
And ignores the Tarcutta day
The Tarcutta day, Tarcutta day
Forty degrees in the Tarcutta shade
The Tarcutta shade, Tarcutta shade
On these Tarcutta days
So on and on it goes,
The city folk in their holiday clothes
While up and down the road
The crows grow fatter
The buckled iron, the prayers for rain
The thicknecks burning up the inside lane
Its enough to drive a girl insane
But whats it matter?
Blow flies, blacktop, bull headed men
The trees in the heat haze shimmer nad bend
They come and they go but they never quite end
Those long hot Tarcutta days.
Lyrics Submitted by Anton Stoynev