Intro
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I saw a blue umbrella in Princes Street Gardens,
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Heading out west for the Lothian Road.
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An Evening News stuffed deep in his pocket,
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Wrapped up in his problems, to keep away the cold.
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Grierson's spirit haunts the dockyards,
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Where the only men working are on documentary crews,
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Shooting film as the lines get longer,
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As the seams run out, all the oil runs dry.
(Chorus)
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Hey there laddie, Internal Exile! When will you realise, we got to let go?
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Hey there lassie, Internal Exile! When will you realise, we got to let go?
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Starlings wheeling round Georgian spire,
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And the fires of Grangemouth burn the skies
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B lion sleeps in a tenemant close,
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In a country that's tired and deaf to his roar.
(Chorus)
Same chords, just picked:
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They bury a wasteland deep in the wildernes,
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Poison the soil and reap the harvest,
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of blind indifference, greed and apathy,
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Sowed way back in our history.
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The fish are few and the harbours are empty,
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The kells now rot on our oil slicked shores.
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The sheep are gone, the farms deserted,
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We're out of sight and we're out of mind.
(Chorus)
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Like our fathers before us, We've eyes for america,
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Dream of a new life on foreign shores.
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But wherever we go, we'll always know
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that the land we stand on, is never our own.
(Chorus)
We gotta go now, ....
(Faster part)
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(REAL FAST)
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--
Daniel A. Newcombe Clayton State College
Computing Services Morrow, AA 30260
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- I just want to be free - I'm happy to be lonely.
Marillion, Misplaced Childhood