here in the trenches the fist of the beast
for fear of an atmosphere poisoned deceased
with a gas mask to keep me from breathing my death
ıt’s american soil ı hope for at best
but the duty ı serve can’t begin to compare
to my ancestors battles and wars through the years
though the loneliness strikes like an enemy shell
ı pray for my home but still sit here in hell.
[chorus:]
sail away to a place that’s unknown
taken away from my friends and my home
to a place they call sacred
a place ı call hell
ı long for that corner ı once knew so well.
go to the grind it’s all that ı have
work on and on with nothing to show
but a graying face in this dying place
that’s a lock in my solitude
ı think of a place on a faraway coast
where friends are so dear and there’s reason to toast
a cloudy image of a middle east land
comes down and wrecks my hopeful thoughts.
<bkz: dropkıck murphys>
#656104
