The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The night was a deadly demon ready and waiting to seize,
The road was a dusty trackway over the misty hills,
And the larrikins came driving -
Driving - driving -
The larrikins came driving; a car-load full of dills.
They'd- a battered FJ Holden roaring, a souped-up motor within,
And they'd plenty of alcohol, fairly burning their skin;
And they loudly bawled and swore, and all the seat belts swung;
And they rode without a care,
They really didn't care;
They were out on an endless highway, wild and drunk and young.
Over the stones they rattled and banged on that quiet country road
And they hardly noticed where they went for nothing at all "they
They hooted and hooned out the window as splinters of light passed by;
Their cans lay littering the roadside,
Like lights along the roadside;
Immortal and strong they were: not really ready to die.
But the miles and the drink and the dark took their toll,
As the speed they were travelling grew; and the car soon started to roll,
Took a nudge on the kerb, screeched, slithered and keeled;
The driver knew he had lost it,
Unconsciously, knew that he'd lost it;
And the five lay dead - in the night - in a field!