The joy brings many things
It cannot bring you joy
Sons of mothers huddle here
Men and boys

1850 swung the doors
And human sewage swept inside
Where victims speak in whines
And where the hardened cried

I was sent here by a three foot half-wit in a wig
I took his insults on the chin, and never did I flinch

A swagger hides the fear in here
By this rule we breathe
And there is no one on this earth
Who I'd feel sad to leave

You see we all lose
We all lose

What those in power do to you
Reminds us at a glance
How humans hate each others guts
And show it given the chance

We never say aloud the things
That we say in our prayers
'Cause no one cares

Many executed here
By the awful lawfully good
But the only thing that makes me cry
Is when I see the sky

Brendan Behan's laughter rings
For what he had or hadn't done
For he knew then as I know now
That for each and every one, of us
We all lose
Rich or poor
We all lose
Rich or poor, they all lose

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): MARTIN JAMES BOORER, STEVEN MORRISSEY