| In the late hours of a sunset rendezvous ---
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| chill breeze against tide, that carries me from you.
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| Got a job in a southern city --- got some lead-free in my tank.
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| Now I must whisper goodbye --- I’m bound for the mainland.
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| Island in the city, Cut by a cold sea.
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| People moving on an ocean. |
| Groundswell of humanity.
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| Now the sum breaks through rain as I climb Glen Shiel
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| on the trail of those old cattlemen who drove their bargain south again.
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| And in the eyes of those five sisters of Kintail
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| there’s a wink of seduction from the mainland.
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| Island in the city. |
| Cut by a cold sea.
|
| People moving on an ocean. |
| Groundswell of humanity.
|
| Storm-lashed on the high-rise --- their words are spray to the wind.
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| Blown like silent laughter. |
| Falling on ears of tin.
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| Take my heart and take my brawn.
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| Take by stealth or take by storm ---
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| set my brain to cruise.
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| I can see the glow of the suburb lights.
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| I’m fresh from the out-world ---
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| singing the mainland blues.
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| There was a girl where I came from.
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| Seems a long time, long time gone by.
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| Wears the west wind in her hair.
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| She calls from the hill --- yeah, she calls
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| in my mainland blues.
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| There’s a coast road that winds to heaven’s door
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| where a fat ferry floats on muted diesel roar.
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| And there’s a light on the hillside --- and there’s a flame in her
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| eyes, but how cold the lights burn on the mainland.
|
| Island in the city. |
| Cut by a cold sea.
|
| People moving on an ocean. |
| Groundswell of humanity.
|
| Storm-lashed on the high-rise --- their words are spray to the wind.
|
| Blown like silent laughter. |
| Falling on ears of tin
|
| in my mainland blues. |