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The Immigrant Lyrics

Artist: The Prodigals
Album: Go On

You may dream of a land, of a far-distant land
Where the clouds drift above,
White over green grass and clover
Do the songs still go on are the races now won
By fellows you used to win over
Do they still recall those days long ago
Are their images those the windows of life still adorning
Do they feel that ache that you can never shake
That wakes with you still in the morning

You may drink when youâ‚¬â„¢re dry
You may laugh till you cry
And the tears from your eyes keep on falling
For lethe it runs slow, and never may you know
Respite from your heart still recalling

If anger glows slow thereâ‚¬â„¢s a fuse in a jug
A jug filled with punch
A jug filled with punch in the evening
Thereâ‚¬â„¢s the world in your hand, who can ever understand
Why the jar or two leaves you grieving
Do you torture yourself, is it not you at all,
Is it othersâ‚¬â„¢ fault instead you canâ‚¬â„¢t take a breath without sighing
Thereâ‚¬â„¢s no logic that you know, that can ever make it so
But twenty pints or so stops you dying

Now youâ‚¬â„¢re old, vast and gray
And living in the â‚¬Ëœburbs,
In the bunkers of town,
Archie bunkered down in the trenches
Youâ‚¬â„¢ve established your redoubt,
Immigrants keep out
Nostalgia and cops your defenses

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