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I'm Still Trying
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Are thunderstorms still crashing down the British Isles? Do pantomime dames still get them rolling in the aisles? And do they know in Scotland that I'm still alive Deep in the jungle of internal exile? But I want to come back home before I die Tell the guys, tell the guys I'm still trying I see the place from time to time on some hotel TV Whiskey and the festival, the old rivalry Edinburgh and Glasgow, the cold war lingers on New York and Los Angeles, the rising and the setting of the sun But I still feel this rage Even on this plane There's still this rage Flying at the speed of sound Further and further away The populist elitism, God, it all floods back The suspicion of the grand idea, the hyping of the fact The stubborn lack of passion, they were all so bad in bed The laddish sense of humour behind which they all hid But I want to come back home before I die Tell the guys, tell the guys I'm still trying I like it when I see how they can still smash up a street Riots stir the patriotic embers deep in me Captain McKechnie from the island of Tiree If you sailed back now great grandfather There's something you'd still recognise in me There's still this rage But I still feel this rage Even on this plane There's still this rage Flying at the speed of sound Further and further away Are thunderstorms still crashing down the British Isles? Do pantomime dames still get them rolling in the aisles? And do they know in Scotland that I'm still alive Deep in the jungle of internal exile? But I want to come back home before I die Tell the guys, tell the guys I'm still trying
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