Crucifucks The Story Of Thomas Mcelwee
A bloody hatchet is hovering over me
The breaking of irish hearts is echoing
I can't hold down the water and my eyes start to blur
It reminds me of the day bobby's head came (?)
On the threshold of a trembling world his soul is (?)
(?)
He's done the work of god and bobby said
“i can't hold down the water and i'm not sure where i am but if i slip into a coma i'm sure that i won't give a damn!”
This the story of thomas mcelwee
A place where slavery seems like a holiday
Where centuries of genocide went unabashed
Well thomas up and joined the IRA
(?) want his people to live in peace some day
An accident blew out his eye and (?)
Walked into a place where death would seem like a holiday
He joined the hunger strike with a promise he would give his life
The british (?) fated so far away
His sister still brings flowers to his grave
And they can hear him say
“the IRA means war”
Who knew Margaret Thatcher would have the audacity to say
“i just can't understand why the irish are still mad at us today?”
As if centuries of british rule can be forgotten in a day?
Or the massacres that didn't leave an irish man or woman alive
(?) was elected to parliament but thatcher turned away
People have all spoken but 12 days have gone awry
As the irish (?)
