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Each Dollar A Bullet

Stiff Little Fingers

Text File

Standard tuning.

Cm
Oh it must...
A#
When the...
F
And they're...
               D#             A#
And you're all filled up with tears
Cm
"For the love...
A#
That you've...
F
You throw in...
          D#             A#
And sing "Wearing of the Green

[Chorus:]
Gm
Each dollar a bullet
F
Each victim someone's son
Cm
And Americans kill Irishmen
   A#
As surely
As if they fired the gun

LYRICS
-----------
Oh it must be so romantic
When the fighting's over there
And they're passing round the shamrock
And you're all filled up with tears
"For the love of dear old Ireland"
That you've never even seen
You throw in twenty dollars
And sing "Wearing of the Green

[Chorus:]
Each dollar a bullet
Each victim someone's son
And Americans kill Irishmen
As surely
As if they fired the gun

Now you've never stood on Belfast's streets
And heard the bombs explode
Or hid beneath the blankets
When there's riots down the road
No you've never had your best friend die
Or lost a favorite son
But you'll stand there and tell us
Just what we're doing wrong

Each false word a bullet
Each victim someone's son
And Englishmen kill Irishmen
As surely
As if they fired the gun

From the minute that you're born you're told
To hate the other side
"They're not like us, they're not the same
We know because we're right"
But can't you see we're all the same
There is no right and wrong
Why can't we stop and realize
Just what we're doing wrong
We've hated too much too long

Each old lie a bullet
Each victim someone's son
And Irishmen kill Irishmen
As surely
As if they fired the gun

How can you convince yourself
That what you do is right?
When people are dying there
Night after night
Don't you ever wonder
Why it still goes on?
The hopes and fears and all the tears
Are buried in your ground
Buried in your ground

Each rumour a bullet
Each victim someone's son
And careless talk kills Irishmen
As surely
As if words fired the gun

Well it's lasted for so long now
And so many have died
It's such a part of my own life
Yet it leaves me mystified
How a people so intelligent
Friendly, kind and brave
Can throw themselves so willingly
Into an open grave

Each new day a bullet
Each victim someone's son
And ignorance kills Irishmen
As surely
As if we fired the gun

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Each Dollar A Bullet

Stiff Little Fingers