Hell's Mountains Songtext

soot in your mouth and in your eyes,

praying on your knees for a better life.

With your fellow IRish boys,

drunk at a bar,

the filth of the city is leaving you bare,

bent over, and bruised in an alley.

Your wearin down the soles of your shoes,

Hell's Kitchen was gettin hotter.

Nothing left but stray dogs and ciggarettes,

so you found god in a book and headed out West.
Gonna find a better life for your sons and daughters.

Breakin your back for pennies a day,

the desert dirt is dry today,

So Put on that factory hat,

The Mountains are gettin hotter.

9 Mouths to feed, all of your sons and daughters.

The desert's a flower, there's just not enough water;

9 Mouths to feed, gotta raise those sons and daughters.

The old country gets farther away with every generation,

But we still bleed green blood,

We still pray for rain to quench our thurst,

To clean the western dust from our eyes,

but Hell's Mountains are gettin hotter.

9 mouths to feed, gotta raise your sons and daughters.