Wandered down the eight cold straight
foot follows foot follows foot follows foot
Morning breaks on a cold wet face
foot follows foot follows foot follows foot
Mist hangs over the wide flood plains,
telegraph poles lean tired on the side of the road
Will they lead you home?
Wandered down the eight cold straight
foot follows foot follows foot follows foot
Where so many young men have met their fate
foot follows foot follows foot follows foot
Don't do like your brother done.
Since that day he ain't been the same
So boy, you best turn and run
past the caravan park where you keep your dreams
past the house with the muffled screams
of a jealous heart,
a trust betrayed,
a beaten man,
a bully revenged.
Man walks
Man walks
Man walks
Man walks
Man walks
Man walks
Man walks
Man walks
Every man who walks the eight cold straight
will find the house with the broken gate.
Tell him don't walk up the garden path
but foot follows foot follows foot follows foot
If his mind's been cheating on his heart,
tell him not to knock or look inside,
if he can't make peace with what he finds,
just turn around, walk back to town,
where the eyes are scared and the chips are down.