As a child it was the place names
Singin' at me as the first thing
How the mouth must be employed in every corner of itself
To say "Appalacicola" or "Hushpukena", like "Gweebarra"
A promise softly sung of somewhere else
And as a young man blessed to pass so many road signs
And have my foreign ear made fresh again on each unlikely sound
But feel at home, hearin' a music that few still understand
A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground
The ears were chopped from young men if the pitch cap didn't kill them
They are buried without scalp in the shattered bedrock of our home
You may never know your fortune
Until the distance has been shown between what is lost forever
And what can still be known
So far from home to have a stranger call you, "Darling"
And have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand
In some town that just means 'Home' to them
With no translator left to sound
A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground
compositores: A. Hozier-Byrne
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