Down the bush track, off a dirt road.
No milk bar, no post code.
In the state of blissed out minds,
It's always 1969.
When hippy boy meets hippy girl,
In Brunswick street tonight.
She'll take him back to the hippy hut where everything's alright.
(...) and brew some jasmine tea.
And trip on poetry.
Yeah, we live our lives in a hippy hut,
And our front door is never shut.
It's love and peace out in the bush,
Away from all that shove and push.
Our Kombi Van goes,
Put-put-put,
To a happy hippy, happy, hippy, hippy hut.
To a happy hippy, happy hippy, hippy hut.

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