That I happened to a town oncenIs of no consequence to my storynBut i burned all of my diariesnThe day a town happened to mennI guess I should've called younBut payphones there were just so hungrynI was busy writing headlinesnLike 'postbox eats the hand of lady'nWho fixes stamps to cutout competitionsnShe kisses each letter she mailsnThis is how i found Manilla, Manilla NSWnnCold beer for welcome strangernChoose to refuse and so politelynIs to risk the dangernThat they'll raise the kind of hell known only by the New South WelshnTo be heard along the Namoi banksnAnd out across the distant rangesnnYou've had so many loversnYour brothers would be so proud of theenBut one way of another they've drifted to be beside a seanWhile the information clock has tied a knotnWith both it's hands and holds us by our tailsnWe're all bound by time to Manilla, Manilla NSWnnCan you pick a grave for me in the ruins of cordial factoriesnWhere flavoured flowers grow pirouetting in cul-de-sacsnMiss the sound of clickety clacks on tracks that trains won't gonAnd out through windows....nnThe shop keepers gape out over the landscapenThey're praying for salesnReligion makes more sense in Manilla, Manilla NSWnnHere's to the folk behind fencesnFurtively readjusting denchesnA chorus of corellasnForm clouds over saturday benchesnWhere old men sit and lick tobacco papersnThey look like a harmonica bandnAs the sun tiptoes down Manilla StnAnd slowly comes to landnnI may make me a home in Manilla, Manilla NSW