Young hearts born with grief Shall pay the penalty of truth A season of stolen youth Shall teach old hearts to break It feels like I've been here before Here to where the animals lay down to die So we stood alone on a distant store Our broken spirits in rags and tatters Nerve and muscle, heart and brains Lost to Ireland, lost in vain So you pause and you can almost hear The sounds, they echo down through the ages The creak of the burial cart Here in humiliation and sorrow Not mixed with indignation Someone is driven to exclaim Oh god, that bread should be so dear And human flesh so cheap[] Our young hearts are born with such grief And we have paid the penalty of truth A season of our stolen youth Shall teach our hearts to break