[Verse 1: Gerry Cinnamon]
I've got a mate who's a shaman, gets anything you want in no time
A weekend at Bernie's is a few days without any sunshine
I know a right dour-faced bastard
A really nice guy but he hates life
He's got sarcastic eyeballs
And a tongue that can slash like a lock-knife
[Chorus 1]
These faces I've know growing up on the streets in the Southside
From the hills of the 'milk to the parade in the east end
I remember the change
In the accents on the Westside
Making money 'til there's no time left to spend
It's all bullshit but we all still pretend
[Verse 2]
When I was a wean, i used to sell puff to make money
But we'd smoke all the profit and by Friday it was no longer funny
I know a guy who's a lightweight, one or two jars and he's buckled
He's the guy that loses keys has to break into his ain house and gets huckled
[Chorus 2]
These faces I've known
Growing up on the streets in the Southside
From the swords in the schemes
To the art-school dreams of the town
And when I lie awake in the night time
These things I remember
Some happy, some sad
Bring a smile to my face when I'm down
In the Priory or in Sinbad's in Dunoon
[Verse 3]
I've been all round the world, but there's nowhere compares to my home-town
The mayhem of Glasgow is buried deep in my blood
And there's no other place where 'a cunt' might not be a put down
It's thirteen degrees and there's folk in the street in the scud
[Outro]
No' the best place but there's diamonds in the mud
No' the best place but there's diamonds in the mud
No' the best place but there's diamonds
