Scars of the Outback

The Aussie sun, it's beatin' down, Out here, you're either king or clown. A warning rides on the wind's loud shout, "Mate, f*ck around, and you'll find out." 'Cause the bush don't care if you're tough or sly, The rules are simple: live or die. Play your games, go run your mouth, But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out. From the red dirt roads to the barroom fights, There's no shadows here, just brutal lights. The truth hits hard, no room for doubt, "Mate, f*ck around, and you'll find out." 'Cause the bush don't care if you're tough or sly, The rules are simple: live or die. Play your games, go run your mouth, But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out. There's a wisdom carved in scars you earn, Every slip is a lesson, every bridge you burn. The harder you push, the louder the shout, "Don't f*ck around, mate, or you'll find out." Under starlit skies, the echoes cry, For every fool who dared to try. The bush remembers, it don't flout, The rule: "F*ck around, and you'll find out." "Out here, respect ain't given. It's earned with blood, sweat, and decisions. Cross the line, you'll see what I'm about. Go ahead-f*ck around, and find out." The wild don't bend; it stands its ground, No second chances, no safe bounds. You play your cards, you roll your clout, But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out. 'Cause the bush don't care if you're tough or sly, The rules are simple: live or die. Play your games, go run your mouth, But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out.