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 Dropkick Murphys Dropkick MurphysИрландско-американская панк-рок группа

Far Away Coast

Here in the trenches the fist of the Beast

For fear of an atmosphere poisened deceased

With a gas mask to keep me-from breathing my death

It's American soil I hope for at best

But the duty I serve can't begin to compare

To my ancestors battles and wars throught the years

Though the loneliness strikes like an enemy shell I

pray for my home but still sit here in hell

chorus: Sail away to a place that's unkown

taken away from my friends and my home

to a place they call sacred a place I call hell

I long for that corner I once knew so well

Go to the grind it's all that I have

Work on and on with nothing to show

But a graying face in this dying place

Thats a lock in my solitude

I think of a place on a faraway coast

Where friends are dear and there's reason to toast

A cloudy dark images of a Middle East land

Comes down and wrecks my hopeful land


Dropkick Murphys

Far Away Coast / Dropkick Murphys

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