There's کے بول

There's your coat upon my back There's the irony I lacked There's the vapour from your mout There's the rain spreading from the south There's the castle on the hill There's my final act of will There's a bus stop in Tollcross There's no memory I've lost Memories never lost There's you lying on the quilt There's your west of Scotland lilt Singing me your guilt There's your voice on the phone There's your voice on the phone There's your voice on the phone There's your voice on the phone There's your voice on the phone There's your voice on the phone There's the snow in January There's the beauty that you see There's you walking down the street Children running 'round your feet There's you and there's me