From the top of the hill, from this vivid embrace
With the muddled sight of the Glasgow haze
From the captions of joy to the captions of hate
The flourishing dreams and the realist fates

From the sunny hellos, from the windy farewells
From the views of a town that still never tells
Where the maps have been burnt, where our bravery is key
Where do these streets lead, and where do they leave me?

From the top of the hill, with the sun on my face
With remains of the past, gleaming futures to trace
From the murky, chilled morn' to the flowery eve
In the skyline before me lies what I can't leave

From the south front's clear air, with the greenery below
I can see what is hidden, and I know I will know ...