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[Verse 1]
Stumbled in from the local
Smell of chips on my shirt
You’re barefoot in the kitchen
In your old State of Origin shirt
I say
“You won’t believe this”
Dropping keys on the bench
“Postie’s down there boasting
Like he’s king of the cul-de-sac trench”
[Chorus]
“He reckons he’s slept with every girl in our street
Every mum
Every missus
Every side-piece cheat
Every house from the corner to the cul‑de‑sac bend
Every single woman on the block
Except for one in the end”
[Verse 2]
You don’t blink
Don’t flinch
Just top up your glass
Leaning on the benchtop
With that laugh made of broken glass
You roll your eyes and snort
Like it’s local footy chat
Say
“I bet it’s that stuck up one
Down at number twenty
That”
[Bridge]
I freeze there in my thongs
Fridge light on my face
You sip and shake your head
Like you’ve just solved the case
Whole street’s got its secrets
Hiding behind white picket lies
But the loudest clue was sitting
In your off‑hand reply
[Chorus]
“He reckons he’s slept with every girl in our street
Every mum
Every missus
Every side-piece cheat
Every house from the corner to the cul‑de‑sac bend
Every single woman on the block
Except for one in the end”
[Outro]
You don’t blink
Don’t flinch
Just top up your glass
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