Poor Old Ireland

Poor old Ireland, poor old universe
Wonder who comes off the worse
Poor old people mistreating misbelieving
I think you’ve been cast by a curse
But I don’t want you to die, I can see all the lies
There’s nothing there that’s new
But there’s still no need to make blind children bleed
Even if what you say is true
And meanwhile in the aisles of the churches with style
They’re singing their songs to the Lord
And the preacher’s carping that for failure on earth
Heaven will be your reward
Poor old Ireland tortured by past and
Tarnished by future’s curse
Poor old Ireland, poor old planet
Poor old universe
Oh Ireland your people mean more than the idols
You seek to set upon earth
And the day that you see that’s the day, that all of your
Sadness and sickness will die
For the enemy you seek to destroy is not the
One who’s causing the pain
He’s disguised himself well with his book and his bell but
Evil is still his name
Poor old Ireland tortured by past and
Tarnished by future’s curse
Poor old Ireland, poor old universe
Wonder who comes off the worse