Goorie Girl, sitting there so quiet, what’s hiding in your eye?

This lot are ripping each other outta closets nearly the whole world wide,

And looks to me like something’s up, but you got too much pride,

So you sit there saying nothing, listening bout the boy who died.
Wothcha thinkin? Nuthin. But the words they slowly come,

How he stripped you, kicked you in the guts, and lucky had no gun.

How his family ring up death threats, and so now you’re on the run,

But you’ve got a flat at somewhere, and – please – don’t tell anyone.
And yeah you know the cycle, he might do the same again,

He’s trying to change, he reckons, and his is your Murri man,

You want a nice house, peace and quiet your only two demands,

You love him, but oh sister girl, there’s some things you can’t mend.
He left you crying in some park, you didn’t know the name,

Made a reverse charge up-North phone call, send some help and not some blame,

The copcar dropped you at the Shell, (black bitch – they’re all the same)

No taxifare, no family here, and she has is shame.
The bruises healed up weeks ago, you’ve bigger problems, hey?

Your pay is twofivefive a week, the rent is twofoureight,

Need uniforms for them three kids, their nanna said today,

You’ve started working Friday nights, it sucks, but thems’s the breaks.
You sip your rum so sadly that I almost want to cry,

I say what little is to say, don’t want to see you die,

Your look is straight, your heart is strong, there’s courage in your eye,

But sister girl, get outta there – go let your spirit fly.