Celtic children born with stone in hand
|
Cast against the dark
|
Revolution spark
|
Bitter tears they flood the sea
|
They're drowning me.
|
|
Frightened soldiers fighting for a queen
|
Streets of Orange and Green
|
Ancient building scream
|
As exploding motor cars
|
Leave their scars.
|
|
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
|
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
|
|
Towards the dawn the lights of power burn
|
Statesmen wrapped in fears
|
Wrestling with ideas
|
Search their souls to find the key.
|
Who has the key?
|
|
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
|
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
|
|
Khaki angles fly the sun,
|
Mortar starlight burns
|
Tear stained face it turns
|
Paid the blood price to be free.
|
|
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
|
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
|
|
-----------------
|
BELFAST COWBOYS
|
| Pretty Things |
