Tall Ships Lyrics

Green train runs through the city

Like some of kind putrified blood lost of all its colors

No more red and blue now just a slickly paleness

The prostitutes and junkies walk through the night

And no one walks into a local without a invitation

The fluorescents knock you back

And tell you to go away and quick

There are no street signs

If you don't know where you are

Then you're in the wrong place

A blow-in from somewheres else

See yahs at the methadone clinic

Running along Pearse Street

Between the black river and

The holy and undivided Trinity

The council houses erupt with the screams

Of families ripping themselves apart

With what little they have

To tear themselves up with

But a bag of crisps and a sugar drink

Make a fine breakfast for a family of eight

And it was Dostoevsky wrote these words

Men and women deprived of meaningful work

Lose their reason for existence

They go stark, raving mad

So they queue up for a job

They queue up for the dole

They queue up for a hand out

Stark raving mad

And the woman walks

Between the cars at the streetlight

Hoping to have some money to show her man

Who doesn't take an empty cup lightly

A young man took a screwdriver

To the head of two Polish workers

And pleaded drunkenness and bereavement

He'll be sloppin' out at Mountjoy for a couple of years

And back out in no time

And the Americans with their

Matching white trainers

And stuffed backpacks

Search out the green thatched roof utopia

The Nigerian taxi driver was beaten to death on Pearse and Lower Erne

And the young woman from India was told

'This is a Catholic Country'

But no one is looking for a priest to do anything at all

They're all laid out on the trolleys

Waiting for a room to die in

And the emergency room is its own emergency,

And any self-respecting nurse would call it hopeless

And triage it out of existence

Seems like a cancer cluster has appeared

In the square with Lillie and Margo and Dimple and Matthew

Queuing up at the linear accelerator

It's a north side south side divide

Split by a river of filth

Tall ships with the ghosts of a famine

Now turned to stone at the feet of the financial centre

All dried up itself

And it was Dostoevsky wrote these words

Deprived of meaningful work

Men and women lose their reason for existence

They go stark, raving mad