A Stórín

Our love’s a touch of life
In a world that wreaks of death
A fuck you to the blacknes
Of pestilence and graves
To the bodies that litter roadsides
From the city to the sea
All the specters of a people
Made starve for others greed
To glid the empire’s lily
While a dying nation bleed
A stor, a storín, a stor
On your lips a breath to save us all
From the pointlessness and horror of it all
And they’re tearing down the walls
And they’re setting the roof to flames
And I’m but a man of skin and bone
Clothed in my shame
Nothing to feed us
But hope in each others' eyes
As we board a coffin ship
To try and save our very lives
A stor, a stor, a storín, a stor
There may not be a tomorrow
So I give you my all now
And if we live to see another day
I’ll spend each breath I have with you
A stor, a stor
Till our sying days, a stor
Till the warming clay, a stor
To the clay, a stor