Okay, I want to talk about Ireland Specifically, I want to talk about the famine About the fact that there never really was one There was no famine See, Irish people were only allowed to eat potatoes All the other food, meat, fish, vegetables Were shipped out of the country under armed guard To England while Irish people starved And then in the middle of all this They gave us money not to teach our children Irish And so we lost our history And this is what I think is still hurting me See we're like a child that's been battered Has to drive itself out of its head because it's frightened Still feels all the painful feelings But they lose contact with the memory And this leads to massive self-destruction Alcoholism, drug addiction All desperate attempts at running And in its worst form becomes actual killing And if there is ever gonna be healing There has to be remembering then grieving So that there can be forgiving There has to be knowledge and understanding There was no famine, was no famine There was no famine American army regulation Says you mustn't kill more than ten percent of a nation 'Cause to do so causes permanent psychological damage It's not permanent, but they didn't know that Anyway, during the supposed famine We lost a lot more than ten percent of our nation Through deaths on land or ships of emigration But what finally broke us was not starvation But its use in the controlling of our education Schools go on about black '47 On and on about the terrible famine But what they don't say is in the truth There never really was one Was no famine There was no famine There never really was one England doesn't take responsibility For destruction that it's caused For its empire and now commonwealth They left us uninformed And we are lost, like the reality of our history Like decades of land we invade Not just killing, crushing culture Taking away identity and heritage Tradition and music, therefore love Confidence and understanding about who you are And where you're from and what you're made of It's essential that we educate There's blood on hands and guilt at stake, England needs a hug It's backed itself into a corner like a scared dog If we can learn the truth with compassion and understanding We can move forward And then we can learn not to pass on our trauma And if there is ever gonna be healing There has to be remembering then grieving So that there can be forgiving There has to be knowledge and understanding And if there is ever gonna be healing There has to be remembering then grieving So that there can be forgiving There has to be knowledge and understanding There was no famine The Big Hunger It's not called the great famine anymore There was nothing great about it, it's called an Gorta Mór Which was in English translated as The Big Hunger