歌曲 | Tobacco Island |
歌手 | Flogging Molly |
专辑 | Live at the Greek Theater |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Casey, Hensley, King, Maxwell ... | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island' | |
Twas 1659 forgotten now for sure | |
They dragged us from our homeland | |
With the musket and their gun | |
Cromwell and his roundheads | |
Battered all we know | |
Shackled hopes of freedom | |
We're now but stolen goods | |
Darken the horizon | |
Blackened from the sun | |
This rotten cage of | |
Bridgetown | |
Is where I now belong | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
Red leg down a peg | |
Blistered burns the soul | |
The floggings they're a plenty | |
But reasons there are none | |
Our backs belong to landlords | |
Where branded is there name | |
Paid for with ten shillings | |
Cheap labor never breaks | |
The silver moon is shinin' | |
Cools the copper blood | |
Where the livin' meet the dead | |
And together dance as one | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
Agony, will you cleanse this misery? | |
For it's never again | |
I'll breathe | |
The air of home | |
From this sandy edge | |
The rolling sea breaks my revenge | |
With each whisper a thousand waves | |
I hear roar, | |
I'm coming home | |
Dark is the horizon | |
Blackened by the sun | |
This rotten cage of | |
Bridgetown | |
Is where I now belong | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island |
zuo qu : Casey, Hensley, King, Maxwell ... | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island' | |
Twas 1659 forgotten now for sure | |
They dragged us from our homeland | |
With the musket and their gun | |
Cromwell and his roundheads | |
Battered all we know | |
Shackled hopes of freedom | |
We' re now but stolen goods | |
Darken the horizon | |
Blackened from the sun | |
This rotten cage of | |
Bridgetown | |
Is where I now belong | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
Red leg down a peg | |
Blistered burns the soul | |
The floggings they' re a plenty | |
But reasons there are none | |
Our backs belong to landlords | |
Where branded is there name | |
Paid for with ten shillings | |
Cheap labor never breaks | |
The silver moon is shinin' | |
Cools the copper blood | |
Where the livin' meet the dead | |
And together dance as one | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
Agony, will you cleanse this misery? | |
For it' s never again | |
I' ll breathe | |
The air of home | |
From this sandy edge | |
The rolling sea breaks my revenge | |
With each whisper a thousand waves | |
I hear roar, | |
I' m coming home | |
Dark is the horizon | |
Blackened by the sun | |
This rotten cage of | |
Bridgetown | |
Is where I now belong | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island |
zuò qǔ : Casey, Hensley, King, Maxwell ... | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island' | |
Twas 1659 forgotten now for sure | |
They dragged us from our homeland | |
With the musket and their gun | |
Cromwell and his roundheads | |
Battered all we know | |
Shackled hopes of freedom | |
We' re now but stolen goods | |
Darken the horizon | |
Blackened from the sun | |
This rotten cage of | |
Bridgetown | |
Is where I now belong | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
Red leg down a peg | |
Blistered burns the soul | |
The floggings they' re a plenty | |
But reasons there are none | |
Our backs belong to landlords | |
Where branded is there name | |
Paid for with ten shillings | |
Cheap labor never breaks | |
The silver moon is shinin' | |
Cools the copper blood | |
Where the livin' meet the dead | |
And together dance as one | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
Agony, will you cleanse this misery? | |
For it' s never again | |
I' ll breathe | |
The air of home | |
From this sandy edge | |
The rolling sea breaks my revenge | |
With each whisper a thousand waves | |
I hear roar, | |
I' m coming home | |
Dark is the horizon | |
Blackened by the sun | |
This rotten cage of | |
Bridgetown | |
Is where I now belong | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island | |
All to hell we must sail | |
For the shores of sweet | |
BarbadosWhere the sugar cane grows taller | |
Than the God we once believed in | |
Till the butcher and his crown | |
Raped the land we used to sleep in | |
Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes | |
That haunt tobacco island |