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Out of Ireland I have come |
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Great hatred and little room |
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Maimed us at the start |
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And now home just breaks my heart |
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To America I have come |
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I hope to bring your preacherman |
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Home to show my people how they can |
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Get their names back in the book of the life of the lamb |
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I know that I have done many things |
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To give you reason not to listen to me |
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Especially as I have been so angry |
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But if you know me maybe you would understand me |
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Words can't express how sorry I am |
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If I ever caused pain to anybody |
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I just hope that you can show compassion |
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And love enough to just please listen |
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Out of Ireland I did run |
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Great hatred and little room |
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Aimed to break my heart |
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Wreck me up and me all apart |
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To America I have come |
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I need to find a good preacherman |
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Who can show me how I can |
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Get my name back in the book of the life of the lamb |
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I bring these blessings with me |
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A strong heart full of hope and a feeling |
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That everything in this world would be okay |
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If people just believed enough in God to pray |
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But the world thinks that sounds crazy |
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And that's the thing that makes me sing sadly |
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To think that we would leave God so lonely |
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To think that we would mess up our destiny |
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Out of history we have come |
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With great hatred and little room |
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It aims to break our hearts |
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Wreck us up and tear us all apart |
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But if we listen to the Rasta man |
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He can show us how it can be done |
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To live in peach and live as one |
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Get our names back in the book of the life of the lamb |
