Internal Exile

I saw a blue umbrella in Princes Street GardensHeading out west for the Lothian RoadAn Evening News stuffed deep in his pocketWrapped up in his problems to keep away the coldGrierson’s spirit haunts the dockyardsWhere the onlym en working are onDocumentary crewsShooting film as the lines get longerAs the seams run out, as the oil runs dryHey there laddie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?Hey there lassie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?Starlings wheeling round Georgian spiresAnd the fires of Grangemouth burn the skiesA lion sleeps in a tenement closeIn a country that’s tired and deaf to his roarHey there laddie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?Hey there lassie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?They bury a wasteland deep in the wildernessPoison the soil and reap the harvestOf blind indifference, greed and apathySowed way back in our historyThe fish are few the harbours emptyThe keels now rot on our oil-slicked shoresThe sheep are gone, the farms desertedWe’re out of sight and we’re out of mindHey there laddie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?Hey there lassie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?Like our fathers before usWe’ve eyes for AmericaDream of a new life on foreign shoresBut wherever we go, we’ll always knowThat the land we stand on, is never our ownHey there laddie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?Hey there lassie, Internal ExileWhen will you realise we’ve got to let go?