Текст песни Marching Season Siege (Damien Dempsey) с переводом

Marching down my street

Right past my own church

You beat your drums of hate

Until your hands burst

And the route you take through my neighbourhood

Is a well planned route

Baying for some blood

Woh some blood

You could march down your own streets

But that’s now what you want

There’s no point in that

You need someone to taunt

And the hate they feel

Is beaten into them

From their infancy

Drummed and drummed again

Woh again

I have many friends, who come from your background

But they see through hate and their own voice they’ve

Found

Every summertime, we are under siege

Every summertime, it’s the marching season siege

Woh the siege, it’s the marching season siege

Woh the siege, the siege, the siege, the siege

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