R.o.i
Lower than atlantisHis blood is heritage, this Irish boy cannot hide.
I'd beach to the rhythm of the strumming, of the valley bad's Joe.
His blood was three colours: green, white and gold.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.
I know I'll be
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.
This sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.
This sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.
This sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.
This sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.