The place I live – it is not here It’s somewhere in between It’s too dark and cold to smile Soldiers loom too keen to avoid All the same guns, kneecaps, and donations run rampant The argument keeps them employed What parliament could stand to realize is that They planted this troublesome seed And we fed off of it and now it’s all this- If you really want talk, don’t impede Investments gone, small business disappears When I look, I see no dreams, or dogma or rhetoric, or colors or campaigns I see funerals and mother scream I see hard men fall with pain in their eyes I see conflict vanish in air and crumbled buildings where men finally decides that they with that their dead were still there I see a country who will not subsidize us and our own who won’t stand in the way Does Downing Street now turn its eyes on our people to see what we have to say Well, wait for peace from Britain and stand up For ourselves and nothing else but for our dead Not for money, security, indoctrinations, donations or anything else ever said To be recognized as a nation of people Who struggled and fought to be free Not as criminals, terrorists, or an inferior class But as activists who fought tyranny And echo these thoughts run throughout time Lest they be forgot That it was greed that let one people prevail Left another behind to rot If the investment now is agreed upon then there Must be limitations on capitol countries are allowed To procure, by Irish resource tax and relations Unless, you want us covered in plastic Like a Nashville tourist trap Or your grandpa 70 years old and cavorting in a leprechaun suit like a sap Fair business practice fair for all people, So greed cannot set the stage Along with the minimum, so they don’t go crazy Politicians and businessmen must have a maximum wage Our differences far behind us Nothing matters anymore All I can do is smile and know, know you Know what I’m thinking before.