I know now that I can't make good
But how I wish I could go back and put
Me where you stood
Nothing's really something now the
Whole thing's cooked

It serves to suffer, make a hole in my foot
And I hope you look as I fill my book
What a waste of wood
Nothing's really happened like I
Thought it would

I can't rest on no dynasty
Then what is wrong with me?
And I'm so sorry i got the best of me
I've really did been on such a violent spree

Well maybe you can still make a man from me
Here on Speyside Quay
With what's left of me
As you live and breath
Really now know what took hold of mе