Internal Exile 歌词

	作词 : Boult, Dick, Simmonds
	(dick/boult/simmonds)
	I saw a blue umbrella in princes street gardens
	Heading out west for the lothian road
	An evening news stuffed deep in his pocket
	Wrapped up in his problems to keep away the cold
	Grierson's spirit haunts the dockyards,
	Where the only men working are on
	Documentary crews,
	Shooting film as the lines get longer,
	As the seams run out, as the oil runs dry.
	Chorus: hey there laddie, internal exile!
	When will you realise we've got to let go?
	Hey there lassie, internal exile!
	When will you realise we've got to let go?
	Starlings wheeling round georgian spires,
	And the fires of grangemouth burn the skies.
	A lion sleeps in a tenement close,
	In a country that's tired and deaf to his roar
	(chorus)
	They bury a wasteland deep in the wilderness
	Poison the soil and reap the harvest,
	Of blind indifference, greed and apathy
	Sowed way back in our history
	The fish are few the harbours empty
	The keels now rot on our oil slicked shores
	The sheep are gone, the farms deserted
	We're out of sight and we're out of mind.
	(chorus)
	Like our fathers before us,
	We've eyes for america.
	Dream of a new life on foreign shores.
	But wherever we go, we'll always know,
	That the land we stand on, is never our own.
	(chorus)

	zuo ci : Boult, Dick, Simmonds
	dick boult simmonds
	I saw a blue umbrella in princes street gardens
	Heading out west for the lothian road
	An evening news stuffed deep in his pocket
	Wrapped up in his problems to keep away the cold
	Grierson' s spirit haunts the dockyards,
	Where the only men working are on
	Documentary crews,
	Shooting film as the lines get longer,
	As the seams run out, as the oil runs dry.
	Chorus: hey there laddie, internal exile!
	When will you realise we' ve got to let go?
	Hey there lassie, internal exile!
	When will you realise we' ve got to let go?
	Starlings wheeling round georgian spires,
	And the fires of grangemouth burn the skies.
	A lion sleeps in a tenement close,
	In a country that' s tired and deaf to his roar
	chorus
	They bury a wasteland deep in the wilderness
	Poison the soil and reap the harvest,
	Of blind indifference, greed and apathy
	Sowed way back in our history
	The fish are few the harbours empty
	The keels now rot on our oil slicked shores
	The sheep are gone, the farms deserted
	We' re out of sight and we' re out of mind.
	chorus
	Like our fathers before us,
	We' ve eyes for america.
	Dream of a new life on foreign shores.
	But wherever we go, we' ll always know,
	That the land we stand on, is never our own.
	chorus

	zuò cí : Boult, Dick, Simmonds
	dick boult simmonds
	I saw a blue umbrella in princes street gardens
	Heading out west for the lothian road
	An evening news stuffed deep in his pocket
	Wrapped up in his problems to keep away the cold
	Grierson' s spirit haunts the dockyards,
	Where the only men working are on
	Documentary crews,
	Shooting film as the lines get longer,
	As the seams run out, as the oil runs dry.
	Chorus: hey there laddie, internal exile!
	When will you realise we' ve got to let go?
	Hey there lassie, internal exile!
	When will you realise we' ve got to let go?
	Starlings wheeling round georgian spires,
	And the fires of grangemouth burn the skies.
	A lion sleeps in a tenement close,
	In a country that' s tired and deaf to his roar
	chorus
	They bury a wasteland deep in the wilderness
	Poison the soil and reap the harvest,
	Of blind indifference, greed and apathy
	Sowed way back in our history
	The fish are few the harbours empty
	The keels now rot on our oil slicked shores
	The sheep are gone, the farms deserted
	We' re out of sight and we' re out of mind.
	chorus
	Like our fathers before us,
	We' ve eyes for america.
	Dream of a new life on foreign shores.
	But wherever we go, we' ll always know,
	That the land we stand on, is never our own.
	chorus

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