Im Still Trying
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