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| Words and music by Tim Freedman Produced by Rob Taylor and Tim Freedman Mixed and engineered by Rob Taylor Vocal, Rhodes electric piano - Tim Freedman Backing vocals - Marcia Hines Hammond organ - Clayton Doley Guitar - Mark Punch Flute, congas, tabla - Babs Marimba - Jess Ciampa Bass - Jackie Orszaczky Drums, bells - Hamish Stuart | |
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| You gotta love this city, love this city, you gotta love this city You gotta love this city, love this city, you gotta love this city Too sick for breakfast, the car wouldn't start But the trip's in vain 'cause awaiting him You gotta love this city, love this city, you gotta love this city Back home he lies in bed for days and days Holding court on Taylor Square proper was the man he could become You gotta love this city, love this city, you gotta love this city He walks along the foreshore, he's got a bottle It was busy everywhere he went You gotta love this city for its body and not its brain And he screams "My city is a whore, opened herself to the world You gotta love this city for its body and not its brain It's more than he can take, and the stars' reflection breaks |