1. |
NO WILD MOUNTAIN THYME
00:54
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2. |
Auld Shite
03:30
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3. |
***IRA
02:20
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Ann, yer ma has secretly been renting out your home,
I used your shower sponge when you went to Spain alone,
She told us it's been rough and you deserved a break,
That marriage to that guy obviously didn’t take,
You had a couple lads, but now they’re always gone,
And you're stuck sweeping hair at yer ma’s hair salon,
The flat you have upstairs tucked in the suburbs safe,
Is running low on ale and other amenities,
'Cause Ann yer ma is in the IRA.
Mal, your elevator shits, I wish it wasn’t there,
But I'm not fuckin' with a thousand flights of stairs,
I pulverized me guts inside the Hebrides,
Tried to convince the poor to pay attention to me,
The Guinness that we drank, I wish that there was more,
The bar is in the building, we know what's the fuckin' score,
'Cause eejits wait outside, pretending they're not there,
Avert their glassy eyes, but I don't really care,
I don't wanna lay in pain and stare at the ceiling while chasing the fleeting,
There's too much in my head to sleep.
And I did the thing that movie said,
"Foot on the floor beside the bed,” still,
Too much in my head to sleep,
Too much in my head to sleep,
There's too much in my head to sleep tonight,
Get fucked up, break your stupid bones again,
Get fucked up, flake on student loans again,
Get fucked up, bother all your friends again,
Get fucked up, shame your broken heart again.
I really gotta leave, but I just wanna stay,
I'm only a real person for a carter-dozen days,
Until I bugger off, until I go away,
And turn into a person that I wouldn't wanna be,
Dont go getting beer on my bedsheets,
I’m becoming so afraid, I'm honestly,
Placing bets on a chemical pisser with my brain,
Cleaning for the dealer so I'll black out on the plane,
Mumbling in the dark and living vicariously,
Reading about Michael Collins and the IRA.
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4. |
Scramine!
02:07
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I’ve been poor for most my life,
My land is plagued by a new blight,
My people wrongly been defined by alcohol and fights.
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna scram?
I’m not one to run and hide,
For a thousand years, we’ve been denied,
It’s culturally negligent genocide,
A million died.
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna scram?
Don’t you wanna hide?
Don’t you wanna immigrate tonight?
I don’t wanna run,
But I don’t wanna die,
Don’t you wanna find a better life?
Potatoes turned to shit,
We haven’t got much time,
Don’t you wanna immigrate tonight?
The British let us die.
Everything you do is to make us impoverished,
Everything you said left us for dead,
Everywhere you go is a disaster,
And I’m not listening to you.
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna go away?
Don’t you wanna scram?
Don’t you wanna hide?
Don’t you wanna immigrate tonight?
Don’t you wanna run?
Don’t you wanna die?
Don’t you wanna scram?
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5. |
Peaces Line
03:36
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Rocky Sullivan, Psy.D. Oceanside, New York
With a head full of limericks and a belly full of potatoes, Mick Babe conscripted members of Bomb the Music Industry! and The Fad into The Rocky Sullivans, and they played Hibernian music stupidly fast and unnecessarily loud. Rocky Sullivan, Psy.D. is the band’s readeption. ... more
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