We
had a good day, put another away, with a liking for making fake money
He
thought he was cool, but was just a fat fool, and sharing his cell won't be funny
Bought
some printers and ink, found an Internet link, to templates of
fifties real fine
It all went bad when his brother, got duped undercover, this was a really
bad sign
The
coppers were smart, but they had a head start, coz these blokes they had not a
clue
Their
telephone banter let everyone canter, and their code
words were definitely not new
Warrants
were sought, and cameras were bought, they followed them all over town
From
Bondi’s surf hire to the boys in the Shire, admissions on tape taken
down.
Six
houses they raided, one fine Monday morn', hit them hard just after dawn
His
garage a factory, life so satisfactory, then thousands from them it was torn
Plastic
a’plenty could've made more than twenty four million in fifty buck notes
Surveillance
was telling, intercepts were compelling, and as crooks they got very few votes
Self
funded retirement; it felt like such fun, a suitcase of money and a place in
the sun
But
so soon it was over, the cuffs were in place, the abject frustration it showed
on his face
A
life of routine in a cell sparse and small, reflecting on just what he said
in those calls
That's all I can say about those two thugs, coz I'm up to my neck in a boatload of
drugs
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