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• Artiste: Cold Chisel
• Titre: The Game
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"Who's that on the telephone" The fisherman said "Looks like a writer" She turned her head "Could be, we'll see" Ma ring replied "There were rumors when he came" And as the evening fell Around the old hotel The stranger left his dial-tone His place was gone In the game "He's down from the city And he's here to think. He pays his money" She got another drink "Who knows, his book Is closed to you and I We may never know his name" The music drifted down The same repeated sound "If Nat King Cole Can save his sole He'll find his peace" The fisherman eased his frame "If I was asked Just who's to blame To read his past I'd have to say She's a woman..." When all your cards are done Just leave your share And make your run They'll burn your contacts down Plans on fire You know they've won Just turn and walk away And start again, a brand new day In lonliness their aim will turn Against themselves For one more play In the game