Dublin in the rain is mine
A pregnant city with a catholic mind
Starch those sheets for the birdhouse jail
All mescalined when the past is stale, pale
Dublin in the rain is mine
A pregnant city with a catholic mind
Slick little boy with a mind of Ritz
Pulling that thread for the next big fix, this
My childhood was small
My childhood was small
But I'm gonna be big
But I'm gonna be big
My childhood was small
My childhood was small
But I'm gonna be big
But I'm gonna be big
But I'm gonna be big
Well, Dublin in the rain is mine
A pregnant city with a catholic mind
Starch those sheets for the birdhouse jail
All mescalined when the past is stale, pale
Dublin in the rain is mine
A loose ambassador for all that crime
Slick little boy with a mind of Ritz
Pulling that thread for the next big fix, this
My childhood was small
My childhood was small
But I'm gonna be big
But I'm gonna be big
My childhood was small, oh yeah, yeah, yeah
My childhood, it was small
But I'm gonna be big
But I'm gonna be big
But I'm gonna be big
I'm gonna be big
Fontaines D.C. - Dogrel Album Lyrics
Fontaines D.C. - Dogrel Lyrics
Writer: Carlos Ramos O'Connell, Conor Patrick Curley, Conor Patrick Deegan, Grian Alexander Chatten, Thomas Patrick Coll
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Sha Sha Sha
You're so real, I'm a show reel
You work for money and the rest, you steal
I feel like an old tattoo
I feel like I'm falling for you
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Sha sha sha
A cabbie pisses on the wheel of his own car
Heads hit the streets, turn cheeks at stars
There's always tears
There's always gonna be tears
There's always gonna be
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Under the lamplight's faded career
Two men at a rickshaw pumping up a tyre
Tire and tire and tire and tire
Tire and tire and tire and tire
And now the cabbie waits at invisible gates
Shoulder to the curb
Manic and wretching like a drunken perv
Now here comes the sun
That's another one done
That's another one
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
You work for money and the rest, you steal
I feel like an old tattoo
I feel like I'm falling for you
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Sha sha sha
A cabbie pisses on the wheel of his own car
Heads hit the streets, turn cheeks at stars
There's always tears
There's always gonna be tears
There's always gonna be
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Under the lamplight's faded career
Two men at a rickshaw pumping up a tyre
Tire and tire and tire and tire
Tire and tire and tire and tire
And now the cabbie waits at invisible gates
Shoulder to the curb
Manic and wretching like a drunken perv
Now here comes the sun
That's another one done
That's another one
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Sha sha sha, sha sha sha
Writer: Carlos Ramos O'Connell, Conor Patrick Curley, Conor Patrick Deegan, Grian Alexander Chatten, Thomas Patrick Coll
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Too Real
Ahhh
None can pull the passion loose from youths ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I cried, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps on the side
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real?
The winter evening settles down
The bruised & beat up open sky, six o'clock
The city in its final dress
And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps
Of withered leaves all about your feet
And then the wringing of a twitching hand
Six o'clock, six o'clock
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
None can pull the passion loose from youths ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I climb, I'm about to make a lot of money
Goes around & around & around
Oh ye boya
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
None can pull the passion loose from youths ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I cried, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps on the side
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real?
The winter evening settles down
The bruised & beat up open sky, six o'clock
The city in its final dress
And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps
Of withered leaves all about your feet
And then the wringing of a twitching hand
Six o'clock, six o'clock
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
None can pull the passion loose from youths ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I climb, I'm about to make a lot of money
Goes around & around & around
Oh ye boya
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real for ya?
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Television Screens
Saw the ice face fail
For the first time in years
And the water levels rise
'Round the television screens
All your tough man looks
For which you had reserved
For a room full of mirrors
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
They fell as a child
On the beatdown grass
No cutting, no bruising
Not a mark to be seen
And so some become lost
As their passions will see
Illustrated well
By the television screen
Shall we tangle our thinking?
Shall we give it a name?
Let it sit at the table
Bring it in from the rain
I could lay you right down
On these lively living streets
And still you'd not know
How the city heart beats
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
You're a cluster of nothing
You are a beauty for the sake
How dare you go about living
As a relic from a dream
As the sky shutters down
On the antiquated scene
On the room full of mirrors
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
For the first time in years
And the water levels rise
'Round the television screens
All your tough man looks
For which you had reserved
For a room full of mirrors
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
They fell as a child
On the beatdown grass
No cutting, no bruising
Not a mark to be seen
And so some become lost
As their passions will see
Illustrated well
By the television screen
Shall we tangle our thinking?
Shall we give it a name?
Let it sit at the table
Bring it in from the rain
I could lay you right down
On these lively living streets
And still you'd not know
How the city heart beats
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
You're a cluster of nothing
You are a beauty for the sake
How dare you go about living
As a relic from a dream
As the sky shutters down
On the antiquated scene
On the room full of mirrors
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
On the television screen
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Hurricane Laughter
I was towelled up to the waist while you were fresh from the confession
The angry streets they twisted up and billowed with the laughter
Anyway I thought to burn the rags in some kind of primal fear
And now the night is blue and red and they're tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
There is no connection available
So to the hills we fled while the evidence was weighing
And weighing, and weighing, and weighing, and weighing
Eyes aloft all shocking blue aloft and purple, serious
Cities barking by the windows screaming to exist
Not without the muted mind of priesthood so imperious
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
There is no connection available
The angry streets they twisted up and billowed with the laughter
Anyway I thought to burn the rags in some kind of primal fear
And now the night is blue and red and they're tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
There is no connection available
So to the hills we fled while the evidence was weighing
And weighing, and weighing, and weighing, and weighing
Eyes aloft all shocking blue aloft and purple, serious
Cities barking by the windows screaming to exist
Not without the muted mind of priesthood so imperious
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
Hurricane laughter
Laughter
Hurricane laughter
Tearing down the plaster
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
And there is no connection available
There is no connection available
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Roy's Tune
The breeze in the night time would kill you stone dead
It was the message I heard when the company said
"There is no warning, and there is no future"
I like the way they treat me but I hate the way they use her
I hate the way they use her
I never really read
I spent the day in bed
And my hair was red
And my eyes weren't dead
I was a cool cool kid on the curbstone scene
And the lights in my eyes they were evergreen
Like you've never seen
The breeze in the night time would kill you stone dead
It was the message I heard when the company said
"There is no warning, and there is no future"
I like the way they treat me but I hate the way they use her
I hate the way they use-
Well I never really read
I spent the day in bed
And my hair was red
And my eyes weren't dead
I was a cool cool kid of the curbstone scene
And the lights in my eyes they were evergreen
Just like you've never seen before
They said the breeze in the night time would kill you stone dead
It was the message I heard when the company said
"There is no warning, there's no future"
I like the way they treat me but I hate the way they use her
I hate the way they use-
Hey love
Hey love
Are you hanging on?
Hey love
Hey love
Are you hanging on?
Are you hanging on?
It was the message I heard when the company said
"There is no warning, and there is no future"
I like the way they treat me but I hate the way they use her
I hate the way they use her
I never really read
I spent the day in bed
And my hair was red
And my eyes weren't dead
I was a cool cool kid on the curbstone scene
And the lights in my eyes they were evergreen
Like you've never seen
The breeze in the night time would kill you stone dead
It was the message I heard when the company said
"There is no warning, and there is no future"
I like the way they treat me but I hate the way they use her
I hate the way they use-
Well I never really read
I spent the day in bed
And my hair was red
And my eyes weren't dead
I was a cool cool kid of the curbstone scene
And the lights in my eyes they were evergreen
Just like you've never seen before
They said the breeze in the night time would kill you stone dead
It was the message I heard when the company said
"There is no warning, there's no future"
I like the way they treat me but I hate the way they use her
I hate the way they use-
Hey love
Hey love
Are you hanging on?
Hey love
Hey love
Are you hanging on?
Are you hanging on?
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
The Lotts
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lilly for the beggar and poison for the clown
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lilly for the beggar and poison for the clown
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here to see
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here for me
Sorry in the morning for the bastard I will be, oh
Devil is the morning and a miser with a gun
Looking for a few coins, "What you want, son?
Manger for the evening or a presidential run?"
Devil is the morning and a miser with a gun
Looking for a few coins, "What you want, son?
Manger for the evening or a presidential run?"
Devil is the morning and a miser with a gun
Looking for a few coins, "What you want, son?
Manger for the evening or a presidential run?"
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lilly for the beggar and poison for the clown
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here to see
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here for me
Sorry in the morning for the bastard I will be
Death is falling down on your work routine
And it's falling even harder on your churches and your queens
Don't be falling hard on the tenement scene
Death is falling down on your work routine
And it's falling even harder on your churches and your queens
Don't be falling hard on the tenement scene
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lilly for the beggar and poison for the clown
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lilly for the beggar and poison for the clown
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here to see
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here for me
Sorry in the morning for the bastard I will be, oh
Devil is the morning and a miser with a gun
Looking for a few coins, "What you want, son?
Manger for the evening or a presidential run?"
Devil is the morning and a miser with a gun
Looking for a few coins, "What you want, son?
Manger for the evening or a presidential run?"
Devil is the morning and a miser with a gun
Looking for a few coins, "What you want, son?
Manger for the evening or a presidential run?"
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lotts on the corner, she ain't ever coming down
Lilly for the beggar and poison for the clown
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here to see
Lotts on the corner, there ain't nothing here for me
Sorry in the morning for the bastard I will be
Death is falling down on your work routine
And it's falling even harder on your churches and your queens
Don't be falling hard on the tenement scene
Death is falling down on your work routine
And it's falling even harder on your churches and your queens
Don't be falling hard on the tenement scene
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Chequeless Reckless
A sell-out is someone who becomes a hypocrite in the name of money
An idiot is someone who lets their education do all of their thinking
A phony is someone who demands respect for the principles they effect
A dilettante is someone who can't tell the difference between fashion and style
Charisma is exquisite manipulation
And money is a sandpit of the soul
Money is the sandpit of the soul
Money is the sandpit of the soul
Money is the sandpit of the soul
Taylor dreams of having it all
She documents an essence in a bathroom stall
An empty cheers marks an empty occasion
The empty glasses is ringing, all across the nation
All across the nation
All across the nation
All across the nation
Well the suits are runnin' and it won't be long
Until the blues cop what's really going on
Well the suits are runnin' and it won't be long
Until the blues cop what's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
An idiot is someone who lets their education do all of their thinking
A phony is someone who demands respect for the principles they effect
A dilettante is someone who can't tell the difference between fashion and style
Charisma is exquisite manipulation
And money is a sandpit of the soul
Money is the sandpit of the soul
Money is the sandpit of the soul
Money is the sandpit of the soul
Taylor dreams of having it all
She documents an essence in a bathroom stall
An empty cheers marks an empty occasion
The empty glasses is ringing, all across the nation
All across the nation
All across the nation
All across the nation
Well the suits are runnin' and it won't be long
Until the blues cop what's really going on
Well the suits are runnin' and it won't be long
Until the blues cop what's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going
What's really going on
What's really going on
What's really going on
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Liberty Belle
You know I love that violence
That you get around here
That kind of ready-steady violence
That violent 'how do you do'
And the lie when his Daddy was asleep in a phone booth
He's just very very tired of having
That same old boring conversation
Just like me, just like you
Man is on the nod yeah what you gonna do about it?
You know I love that violence
That you get around here
That kind of ready-steady violence
That violent 'how do you do'
And the lie when his Daddy was asleep in a phone booth
He's just very very tired of having
That same old boring conversation
Just like me, just like you
Man is on the nod yeah what you gonna do about it?
Is it easy?
Just to try it
Is it the same old line?
Well is it liberating?
Just to be so fine
Happens all the time
You know I love that violence
That you gather when the cartwheel blows down news
Of the marriage of the socialite's money to another one's land
And all but one will refuse to stand, yeah
He's just very ridiculed
And it's coming from the back row, side row, never-even-tried row
Nice man if you knew him well
I heard he owned a place called the Liberty Belle, yeah
Well is it easy?
I think I'll try it
'Cause it's the same old lie
I find it liberating
Just to be so fine
Happens all the time
Well come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
Well come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
That you get around here
That kind of ready-steady violence
That violent 'how do you do'
And the lie when his Daddy was asleep in a phone booth
He's just very very tired of having
That same old boring conversation
Just like me, just like you
Man is on the nod yeah what you gonna do about it?
You know I love that violence
That you get around here
That kind of ready-steady violence
That violent 'how do you do'
And the lie when his Daddy was asleep in a phone booth
He's just very very tired of having
That same old boring conversation
Just like me, just like you
Man is on the nod yeah what you gonna do about it?
Is it easy?
Just to try it
Is it the same old line?
Well is it liberating?
Just to be so fine
Happens all the time
You know I love that violence
That you gather when the cartwheel blows down news
Of the marriage of the socialite's money to another one's land
And all but one will refuse to stand, yeah
He's just very ridiculed
And it's coming from the back row, side row, never-even-tried row
Nice man if you knew him well
I heard he owned a place called the Liberty Belle, yeah
Well is it easy?
I think I'll try it
'Cause it's the same old lie
I find it liberating
Just to be so fine
Happens all the time
Well come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
Well come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Boys In The Better Land
You're not alive until you start kicking
When the room is spinning and the words ain't sticking
And the radio is all about a run away model
With a face like sin and a heart like a James Joyce novel
Saying "Sister, sister, how I missed ya, missed ya
Let's go wrist to wrist and take the skin off of my blister"
If you're a Rock Star, Porn Star, Superstar
Doesn't matter what you are, get yourself a good car, get outta here
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
Driver's got names to fill two double barrels
He spits out "Brits out" only smokes Carrolls
And he's refreshing the world in mind body and spirit
Mind body and spirit
You better hear it and fear it
Oh thats the spirit
Saying "Sister, sister, how I missed ya, missed ya
Let's go wrist to wrist, and take the skin off of my blister"
If you're a Rock Star, Porn Star, Superstar
Doesn't matter what you are, get yourself a good car, get outta here
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
Driver's got names to fill two double barrels
He spits out "Brits out" only smokes Carrolls
And he's refreshing the world in mind body and spirit
Mind body and spirit
You better hear it and fear it
Oh thats the spirit
Saying "Sister, sister, how I missed ya, missed ya
Let's go wrist to wrist, and take the skin off of my blister"
If you're a Rock Star, Porn Star, Superstar
Doesn't matter what you are, get yourself a good car, get outta here
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout those boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
When the room is spinning and the words ain't sticking
And the radio is all about a run away model
With a face like sin and a heart like a James Joyce novel
Saying "Sister, sister, how I missed ya, missed ya
Let's go wrist to wrist and take the skin off of my blister"
If you're a Rock Star, Porn Star, Superstar
Doesn't matter what you are, get yourself a good car, get outta here
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
Driver's got names to fill two double barrels
He spits out "Brits out" only smokes Carrolls
And he's refreshing the world in mind body and spirit
Mind body and spirit
You better hear it and fear it
Oh thats the spirit
Saying "Sister, sister, how I missed ya, missed ya
Let's go wrist to wrist, and take the skin off of my blister"
If you're a Rock Star, Porn Star, Superstar
Doesn't matter what you are, get yourself a good car, get outta here
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
Driver's got names to fill two double barrels
He spits out "Brits out" only smokes Carrolls
And he's refreshing the world in mind body and spirit
Mind body and spirit
You better hear it and fear it
Oh thats the spirit
Saying "Sister, sister, how I missed ya, missed ya
Let's go wrist to wrist, and take the skin off of my blister"
If you're a Rock Star, Porn Star, Superstar
Doesn't matter what you are, get yourself a good car, get outta here
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout the boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
But the boys in the better land
You're always talking 'bout those boys in the better land
The boys in the better land
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Dublin City Sky
I was down the bottom half of some old bar in Chinatown
Me shoes had brought the rain and soaked the space for lookin' down
As drunk as love is lethal, I spun a lady 'round
And I kissed her 'neath the waking of a Dublin City sky
She threw her shoes into her bag and danced just like a dream
Her face was rubied up just like no sun I'd ever seen
She said I was a phony, I said I could be mean
And I treated her so badly, I made my baby cry
The January markets filled the cold air with the sound
The boys all full of laughter and their pocket with the pound
And in the foggy dew, I saw you throwing shapes around
It was underneath the waking of a Dublin City sky
And it all makes sour
To watch my lover wrap her arms around the flag of power
Hurry now you will
To know you is to love you and I love you even still
But we'll never truly be
We trip along disaster in the whirlwind of the free
Altogether now
I was down the bottom half of some old bar in Chinatown
Me shoes had brought the rain and soaked the space for lookin' down
And in the foggy dew, I saw you throwing shapes around
It was underneath the waking of a Dublin City sky
And it all makes sour
To watch my lover wrap her arms around the flag of power
Hurry now you will
To know you is to love you and I love you even still
Ah, but we'll never truly be
We trip along disaster in the whirlwind of the free
Altogether now
Me shoes had brought the rain and soaked the space for lookin' down
As drunk as love is lethal, I spun a lady 'round
And I kissed her 'neath the waking of a Dublin City sky
She threw her shoes into her bag and danced just like a dream
Her face was rubied up just like no sun I'd ever seen
She said I was a phony, I said I could be mean
And I treated her so badly, I made my baby cry
The January markets filled the cold air with the sound
The boys all full of laughter and their pocket with the pound
And in the foggy dew, I saw you throwing shapes around
It was underneath the waking of a Dublin City sky
And it all makes sour
To watch my lover wrap her arms around the flag of power
Hurry now you will
To know you is to love you and I love you even still
But we'll never truly be
We trip along disaster in the whirlwind of the free
Altogether now
I was down the bottom half of some old bar in Chinatown
Me shoes had brought the rain and soaked the space for lookin' down
And in the foggy dew, I saw you throwing shapes around
It was underneath the waking of a Dublin City sky
And it all makes sour
To watch my lover wrap her arms around the flag of power
Hurry now you will
To know you is to love you and I love you even still
Ah, but we'll never truly be
We trip along disaster in the whirlwind of the free
Altogether now
Writer: Grian Chatten, Tom Coll, Conor Curley, Carlos O'Connell, Conor Deegan III
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Dogrel is the debut studio album by Dublin post-punk band Fontaines D.C. It was released through Partisan Records on 12 April 2019 on cassette, CD, digital download, and vinyl formats. The album was nominated for Album of The Year at the Choice Music Prize and Mercury Prize in 2019.
Performed By:
Fontaines D.C.Genre(s): Post-punk
Producer(s): Dan Carey
Length: 39:48
Released: April 12th, 2019
Year: 2019