Luyện nghe bài hát Slainte Mhath

A hand held over a candle in angst-fuelled
A carbon trail a moist stretched palm
Trapped in the indecision of another menu
And you sit and ask me to tell you the story so far
This is the so far

Shuffling your memories your doodles in margins
You scrawl out your poems across a or two
And when you the point of grave creation
They turn round and ask you to tell them the so far

This is the so far

And you listen a tear in your eye
To their hopes and betrayals and only reply
Is slinte

Princes in exile raising the drambuie
Parading anecdotes tired from old campaigns
Holding their own last orders attention
We sit here and listen to all of the so far

is the story so far

Take it away, take it away, take it away, take me

From the dreams on the barbed wire at and bilston glen
a clydesdale that rusts from the tears of it's broken men
From the realisation all we've been left behind
Is to stand like our fathers before us in the firing
Waiting on the whistle to blow, we stand waiting
On the whistle to
promised us miracles, and the whistle still blows
Broken promises, and the still blows
The whistle blows