Quokka in the Grass Lyrics

There's a quokka is the grass

Actually there's more, it's a mass

Worshiping the air we breathe

Worshiping no fluorescent heat

Chilling out with the crew

Kicking drinks and snorting glue

Frolic under powdered skies

No more reasons left to try

Slip away into the night

Far away from the streetlights

Drive the car off of the road

Let our frames rot and corrode

Eat the brains out of my face

Cook me in a China vase

Scatter me across the land

Let the clocks sink in the sand