Verse 1
Victoria Park is sweltering in the dark,
The crackheads haunt the corner of Fletcher Park,
The houses crumble slowly to the ground,
While million-dollar prices still abound.
The black mould climbs the walls and fills the air,
Young renters breathe it in, but no one cares,
The landlords count their profits in the sun,
While tenants cough until their leases run.
Oh, Swansea Markets, where did you all go?
And Carlisle IGA, we miss you so,
The shops that gave the neighbourhood its soul,
Have vanished down a corporate rabbit hole.
Now Hungry Jack’s is serving up the fries,
While landlords claim another golden prize,
They call it progress, say it’s looking grand,
But all that’s growing is the price of land.
Chorus
Oh, Victoria Park!
You’ll never have that charm again!
Oh nooooo!
It took so long to make it,
And greed was there to take it,
And now the locals cannot call it home!
Verse 2
A Labor heartland painted deepest red,
Where working-class families have long since fled,
They preach equality with righteous flair,
Then raise the rent and say that life’s not fair.
They fly the flag of solidarity,
While cashing in on property,
They claim they’re standing with the working poor,
Then put a keypad lock upon the door.
There’s nowhere left to park along the street,
The football crowds arrive with muddy feet,
Mineral Resources Park has claimed the land,
And Carlisle’s just the overflow they’ve planned.
The visitors descend from near and far,
And leave their bloody vehicles where they are,
The locals circle endlessly all night,
While football fans stroll home in sheer delight.
Bridge
And I will take my life into my hands,
And try to find a space where I can stand,
But every parking bay is occupied,
By SUVs three bloody metres wide!
And I will ask the council what they’ve done,
They’ll say their latest strategy’s begun,
Another consultation, glossy plan,
A sculpture of a bird beside a tram!
AND I DON’T THINK THAT I CAN TAKE IT!
‘CAUSE IT TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE IT!
AND THEY’VE SPENT ANOTHER MILLION…
ON A BENCH NO ONE CAN SIT ON!
Verse 3
The houses all have little keypad locks,
And tourists drag their bags around the blocks,
The neighbours who once waved across the fence,
Were priced out by the short-stay residence.
A home is now an asset, not a place,
Another listing in the rental race,
The owners live in comfort and glee,
While every second house is Airbnb.
The city’s halo spread its golden glow,
And drove away the ones who made it grow,
The vibrant streets that once were full of life,
Are empty now except on Friday night.
The shops have changed, the neighbours have moved on,
The heart of what was here is dead and gone,
A neighbourhood reduced to real estate,
Where only those with money get to stay.
Final Chorus
OH, VICTORIA PARK!
YOU’LL NEVER HAVE THAT CHARM AGAIN!
OH NOOOOO!
The council keeps on spending,
The Airbnb’s unending,
The football crowds are parking on the lawn!
OH, VICTORIA PARK!
YOUR GOLDEN YEARS ARE DEAD AND GONE!
The mould is slowly growing,
The property prices soaring,
The people who once loved you have moved on!
And somewhere in the darkness,
By the corner of Fletcher Park,
A crackhead screams at nothing…
WHILE THE COUNCIL UNVEILS ANOTHER WORK OF ART!