When the inspiration is above my station Thoughts are iqeienchoiy and i let them pa** I tend to view this nation Through the condensation On a dirty gla** When the singer solemn was a honnie laddie When she brushed his hair with a watered comb Then he could have dandered And he could have shown ye Seven hitis 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 laddic grew and he looked aroung 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.