Disamistade

What are these souls

doing in front of the church?

These divided people,

this suspended story

An daya ho

An daya ho

An arm's length away

that is the distance of the offense

Peace is considered

but the peace is barely grazed

An daya ho

An daya ho

Two families without blood

Draw up and surrender

And for everyone involved

The pain is shared

The other's pain is half their own

The war of the heart is content

Content with empty causes

The lament of a dog struck down

by the shadow of a step

Satisfied with brief agony

Long the street of the house

An eruption of blood

An absence prepared for the meal

And with the shots of the hunter

Surrounding, one begs for one's fortune

What are our daughters doing

Embroidering and sewing

All these stains of mourning

Who've given up to love

An daya ho

An daya ho

Amid them it still hides

Our wandering hope

That the enemy desires

Desires to be returned

An daya ho

An daya ho

Hastened hands caught in the act

The act of touching other hands

There must be another way of living

Of living without pain

A rush of eyes into eyes

Only to discover, that instead

It's only the pause of the wind

It's only hatred by half

And the authority is dedicated

to the missing half

This disamistade

Is opposed to our misadventure

To this race of time

To the dishevel of our fate and fortune

What are these souls doing

In front of the church

These divided people

This suspended story

• Artist:The Walkabouts
• Album:Train Leaves at Eight