Text:
Crowded House Temple Of Low Men

Oh Hell, trouble is coming Out here in panic and alarm Black shapes gather in the distance Looks like it won't take long The first drops land on the

I'd much rather have a caravan in the hills Than a mansion in the slums I'd much rather have a caravan in the hills Than a mansion in the slums The taste

Seal my fate I get your tongue in the mail No one is wise Until they see how it lies Love this life Don't wait till the next one comes Gonna pedal my

what was mine is now in your possession I could feel you underneath my skin as the wind rushed in, sent the kitchen table crashing she said nobody move or I'll bring the house

You opened up your door I couldn't believe my luck you in your new blue dress taking away my breath the cradle is soft and warm couldn't do me no harm

Than a mansion in the slums The taste of success only lasts you But it loves you when it comes And you laugh at yourself I'd much rather have a trampoline

Don't stand around like friends at a funeral Eyes to the ground It could've been you Why do you weep for the passing of ages You slip with the back of

When you come across the sea me like a beacon guiding you to safety the sooner the better now and when you come the hills will breathe like a baby pulled