[Verse 1]
In a tiny inner city pub the amps were being stacked
Leads were getting wound up, it was full of pissed ANZACs
"Got no more gigs for Tuesday nights," said the barman to the Star
"We're putting pokies in the lounge, and strippers in the bar"
The Star, he raised his fingers and said, "Fuck this fucking hole!"
But to his faithful roadie he said, "It's the death of rock and roll
There ain't a single place that's left to play amplified guitar
Every place is serving long blacks or has become a Tapas bar"
His dirty denim jacket was gaffered and turning black
Hair was missing on his forehead, but it reached right down his back
"I don't blame that barman bastard," he told his roadie, "Hey, fuck no
I blame all those faggot wankers who are playing this techno"
Brothers Gonna Work It Out, get fucked, that can kiss my rotting arse
"Work out what happened to real music," is what I'd like to ask
Everything is all machine, run with MIDI and A-DAT
But all they do is go ping-ping-ping, like a truck that's backing back
Who the fuck are the Chemical Brothers, that they now call the shots?
Goldie is the name of a light beer, Elastica holds up socks
The roadie sat there silent next to the ejaculating Star
"What's the fucking point of drum 'n' bass if no one can play guitar?"

[Chorus]
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero

[Verse 2]
"And have you seen those fucking clubbers with their peroxided dreads
Dressed up in fucking Adidas like fucking fucked fuck heads?
I wouldn't drop a tab of 'E' if you fucking paid me man
I've got the guts for LSD and the only jungle I know was 'Nam"
His roadie sat, still silent, but then he finally began to speak
"Actually, Star, I maybe shoulda told you this last week
But I've scored a job as DJ at the latest techno club
I'm sick of working with a loser; see ya later, bub"
Well, the roadie owned the PA and the roadie owned the ute
And the roadie told Star to get out or he'd bash one up his chute
And there on that cold freeway, Star walked along alone
Of course, he'd been kicked out half way between emergency telephones

[Chorus]
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
(What a man, what a man, what a man, what a man)

[Verse 3]
"Fuck youse all," said Star aloud in the emergency stopping lane
"To quote from the chick Juliet, 'Hey, what's in a name?'
A good song's just a good song, just the same as long ago
But dress it up as something new, and suddenly you're Picasso
Every white-balled Pommy cunt thinks that you're so hip
Read NME from ten years ago, and there's all the same dickslip
Prodigy are just the band who are getting it this year
Rolling Stone's got no more cred than fucking New Idea"
Star's anguished voice rose in grief as he cried unto the moon
"In the end, when all is said, a tune's just a fucking tune"
Star played his amp far too loud, his hearing was sorta gone
So he never heard the grinding squeal as the truckie put the brakes on
Twenty six road train wheels played a tune upon his head
"He just wandered into the traffic," the distraught driver said
The cops had seen it all before, the ambos washed the freeway clean
There's no contest when you put a man against a machine

[Chorus]
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero
Aussie
Aussie guitar hero