For a while, I forgot who I was,
Just purely and simply because
I'd had taken from me, very deviously,
Opportunities outside of Oz.
Back when ASIO started my file,
A move that was utterly vile,
All I'd done was complain that all war was insane,
Vietnam in particular style.
A mistake, as it turned out to be,
Attested to by history.
With the countless lives lost at a mind-boggling cost,
A sad lesson in futility.
I was for Aboriginal rights
Which, of course, only shed further light
On the subversive ways I just spent all my days
Undermining Australia's might.
To nuclear disarmament, too,
I felt my allegiance was due.
Such a traitorous move only went on to prove
That I should be kept under review.
Then some faceless backroom boys agreed
A communist I had to be.
Just another bad red, out from under the bed,
And deserving of no sympathy.
I was sacked from a job on TV,
Blacklisted in my industry.
My career overseas got chopped off at the knees,
Surreptitiously, slanderously.
It went into a spiralling dive,
Counteracted by those who contrive
Just to brand whom they like with whatever they like,
Under licence to plot and connive.
Now the truth is I never belonged
To any political throng.
I just celebrated, as conscience dictated,
Good causes I could help with a song.
Later on, I recalled who I was,
The singer-songwriter from Oz.
I got on with the show and continued to grow,
Which I had to do, simply because.
Just purely and simply because
I'd had taken from me, very deviously,
Opportunities outside of Oz.
Back when ASIO started my file,
A move that was utterly vile,
All I'd done was complain that all war was insane,
Vietnam in particular style.
A mistake, as it turned out to be,
Attested to by history.
With the countless lives lost at a mind-boggling cost,
A sad lesson in futility.
I was for Aboriginal rights
Which, of course, only shed further light
On the subversive ways I just spent all my days
Undermining Australia's might.
To nuclear disarmament, too,
I felt my allegiance was due.
Such a traitorous move only went on to prove
That I should be kept under review.
Then some faceless backroom boys agreed
A communist I had to be.
Just another bad red, out from under the bed,
And deserving of no sympathy.
I was sacked from a job on TV,
Blacklisted in my industry.
My career overseas got chopped off at the knees,
Surreptitiously, slanderously.
It went into a spiralling dive,
Counteracted by those who contrive
Just to brand whom they like with whatever they like,
Under licence to plot and connive.
Now the truth is I never belonged
To any political throng.
I just celebrated, as conscience dictated,
Good causes I could help with a song.
Later on, I recalled who I was,
The singer-songwriter from Oz.
I got on with the show and continued to grow,
Which I had to do, simply because.
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