Song Lyrics

Well here we are, the Irish in America
The Irish have been coming to america for years
Going back to the great fmaine, when the irisih were on
the run from starvation
And a british government that couldn’t care less


Right up to today you know,
There are more Irish inmmigrants here in America today than
ever
Some illegal, some legel
A lot of them are just running from, high unemployment

Some run from the troubles in Northern Ireland
From the hatreed of the h-blocks, and torture
Others from wild acts of terrorism
Like we had today in a town called Inniskillin
Where 11 people lie dead many more injured
On a sunday bloody sunday…

I can’t believe the news today
I can’t close my eyes
Make it go away
How long…
How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long…
Tonight… we can be as one
Tonight…

Broken bottles under children’s feet
Bodies strewn across the dead end street
But I won’t heed the battle call
It puts my back up
My back up against the wall

   Sunday, Bloody Sunday
   Sunday, Bloody Sunday

And this battle’s just begun
There’s many lost, but tell me who has won
The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters 
Torn apart

Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday

How long…
How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long…
‘Cause tonight… we can be as one / Tonight
Tonight… tonight, tonight / Tonight, tonight
Tonight, tonight / Tonight

And let me tell you something
I’ve had enough of Irish Americans
Who haven’t been back to their country in 20 or 30 years
Come up to me, and talk about the resistance
The revolution back home
And the glory of the revolution
And the glory of dying for the revolution
Fuck the revolution!

They don’t talk about the glory of killing for the revolution
What’s the glory in taking a man from his bed
And gunning him down in front of his wife and children
Where’s the glory in that?

Where’s the glory in bombing a rememberence day parade
Of old age pensioners their medals taken out and polished
up for the day
Where’s the glory in that?

To leave them dying, or crippled for life, or dead
Under the rubble of the revolution
That the majority of the people in my country
Don’t want

No more sing
No more
No more
No more
No more

Wipe your tears away
Wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your blood shot eyes / Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Wipe your tears away / Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sing it
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Let’s go

And it’s true we are immune
When fact is fiction, TV reality
And today the millions die
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die

The real battle yet begun / Sunday, Bloody Sunday
We’ll claim the victory Jesus won, yeah / Sunday, Bloody
Sunday

Sunday Bloody Sunday
Sunday Bloody Sunday

Thank you
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Sunday Bloody Sunday