I saw a blue umbrella in princes street garden   Heading out west for the lothian road   An evening news stuffed deep in the pocket   Little did I know that he had a heavy load      I found I was walking grierson's dockyards   Where the only thing working was the foreign film crews   Making an impressive documentary   For the news, for the news   To the satellite      And all we're left with is the black, black oil   With a sense of pride and identity   The waters left behind we shouldn't forget   Laid low in the books of history      I saw the starlings wheel round georgian spires   They're gathering on patrol in the skies   In the distance burns the flame of grangemouth   And the dream is lost   Everything   What it could inspire   When we take, you know there is no distance   How we're talked about in the secret affairs   Taking our ride into the distance   To be what it was or could have been   What I should have said      And all we're left with is the black, black oil   With a strong sense of national pride   'till we take some more steps to unity   Take it back to me   Take away   (? )      And all we're left with is the black, black oil   With a strong sense of national pride   Calling the (ministry? ) for identity   What it meant to me, what it said   What we could have had      I saw a blue umbrella in princes street garden   Heading out west for the lothian road   An evening news stuck deep in the pocket   Little did I know that he'd fall   Carrying a heavy load      And all we're left with is the black, black oil   With a strong sense of national pride   Calling a name in the sake of unity   What it meant to me you'll never know   You'll never know      I see myself forced in servant exile   Turning around at another's command   All I want to see is identity   What I could have been   What I did   Could have been      Internal exile   Internal exile