Opens his hand, reads his name,
grabs the bottle & swallows again.
Thinks of the wife he's left behind,
touches the photo & closes his eyes.
Thinks of the time where he walked from the street.
Under the light & killed a man dead.
A chroí, A chroí, A chroí dearg, stad do bhualadh, tá mé gan dóchas!
(my red heart stop beating, I am without hope).
Whiskey burned memories come crashing to the floor.
For each one that's gone there's twenty-five more
that'll burn him & crush him right through to the core.
He's filled with the thoughts of those gone before.
He opens his mouth & all that comes out
is a fractured song from a fractured heart.
He grabs the bottle & swallows again,
picks up the blade that's singin his name.