Momus - I'm Still Trying lyrics
[Momus - I'm Still Trying lyrics]
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
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