Far Away Coast - Dropkick Murphys

here in the trenches the fist of the beast, for fear of an atmosphere poisoned deceased, with a gas mask to keep me from breathing my death, it's american soil i hope for at best, but the duty i serve can't begin to compare, to my ancestors battles and wars through the years, though the loneliness strikes like an enemy shell, i pray for my home but still sit here in hell. sail away to a place that's unknown, taken away from my friends and my home, to a place they call sacred, a place i call hell, i long for that corner i once knew so well. go to the grind it's all that i have, work on and on with nothing to show, but a graying face in this dying place, that's a lock in my solitude, i think of a place on a faraway coast, where friends are so dear and there's reason to toast, a cloudy image of a middle east land, comes down and wrecks my hopeful thoughts.