| If you never leave the highlands |
| Like you’re drowning under rain |
| And your sadness tastes like whiskey |
| And my body breathes the same |
| And ill drain my wisdom empty |
| Just to feel that space again |
| But you know nothing is outside |
| And my secret is my silence |
| My secret is my silence |
| And my silence is in vain |
| Im sick of living in these buildings |
| That were built from blood and rain |
| And from the warm side of the window |
| The views always look the same |
| But your face it held the stories |
| Full of dreams it can contain |
| But you know nothing is outside |
| And my secret is my silence |
| My secret is my silence |
| And my silence is in vain |
| But you know nothing is outside |
| And my secret is my silence |
| My secret is my silence |
| And my silence is in vain |
| And you held on to a country |
| From the cail yard to the grave |
| And you spoke in quickly written verses |
| Hidden in your gaelic name |
| To approach land without a harbour |
| To find your way home |
| You approach land without a harbour |
| To find your way home |