When the inspiration Is above my station Thoughts are iqeienchoiy And I let them pass I tend to view this nation Through the condensation
On a dirty glass When the singer solemn Was a honnie laddie When she brushed his hair With a watered comb Then he could have wandered And he could have shown ye Seven hit is like home If misty eyes can witness Love and affection
Why does the heart still resist What the hell is wrong with you? I've got eyes of misty blue All the things I want to do Are all I ever wanted to
As the ladik grew And he looked around him At the thugs and rapists In their stolen suits Louder beat the rhythm
Of his bloody heart Telling him to shoot Thoughtless competition Like a home-made prison Made him fix his vision On a certain fate What's the use in winning All the worlds creation If you won't create.