Friday morning, you've just got to sleep but you have to get up! Got a bus to catch.
Eight hours spent watching cows go by at 70mph, in a seat desinged with your discomfort in mind.
Glasgow hasn't changed, beneath all the new facades it's still your ugly sister with a fetish for knifes and dangerous boyfriends.
No one has left the old town, they all move, back like rubber bands that refuse to break.
No ones doing anything new, and they don't like what they do.
Weddings with strange bottle blondes, that grab you by the hand and make you dance to bad covers of Eagel's songs. Bride looks pretty, groom looks doomed to red face and beerbelly.
She should have married you, not that your a nicer guy, but you look better in a kilt and won't throw up behind a potted plant.
People you never thought would get laid are having babies by the dozen, people you never thought could play guitar are getting record deals but they can't buy themselves a beer. So this and the next round are on you sailor! Lets drink to our wandering brother! The bastard left us behind, so let him reach in his pocket.
Beer flows, whiskey faces glow, and your sorry, but you really have to go. Gotta catch a coach back to the big smoke, get back to your job, your flat, you sure you left the fridge door open, or the gas on. Gotta go, see you later.
But, you know you can't go back, not if you can help it.
Eight hours spent watching cows go by at 70mph, in a seat desinged with your discomfort in mind.
Glasgow hasn't changed, beneath all the new facades it's still your ugly sister with a fetish for knifes and dangerous boyfriends.
No one has left the old town, they all move, back like rubber bands that refuse to break.
No ones doing anything new, and they don't like what they do.
Weddings with strange bottle blondes, that grab you by the hand and make you dance to bad covers of Eagel's songs. Bride looks pretty, groom looks doomed to red face and beerbelly.
She should have married you, not that your a nicer guy, but you look better in a kilt and won't throw up behind a potted plant.
People you never thought would get laid are having babies by the dozen, people you never thought could play guitar are getting record deals but they can't buy themselves a beer. So this and the next round are on you sailor! Lets drink to our wandering brother! The bastard left us behind, so let him reach in his pocket.
Beer flows, whiskey faces glow, and your sorry, but you really have to go. Gotta catch a coach back to the big smoke, get back to your job, your flat, you sure you left the fridge door open, or the gas on. Gotta go, see you later.
But, you know you can't go back, not if you can help it.