Irish Garden

Sitting in an Irish garden, you melancholy bride
Oh, your children are dying - blood on the roadside
Your people are helpless, and no one consoles you, yeah, yeah, as bullets keep flying, filling you with holes

Why, oh, why did you run and hide?
It's a cultural shock to the soul
You sit in the flames of the fire you set
The nation is out of control

Sitting in an Irish garden, you broken bride to be
Rise up through your sorrow, Jesus makes you free, yeah, yeah

Olden days gone by, it was no so then
Time to play, sing and dance in his holy land
Why did I hide from you, with the serpent at my heel?
I'm sorry for the way that I must have made you feel, must have made you feel

Lord, I'm sorry for the way I know I made you feel

I'm sorry for the way I know I made you feel

Humble us to seek you, Father
Heal our land so lost in sin
Draw us from the bitter water to the garden once again