[Intro] (Atmospheric fiddle swells, shifting into a heavy, knocking 808 beat) Yeah From the South Side to the green hills We blend the grit with the grace Listen close [Verse 1] Concrete and clover, the wind on the block Chicago streets cold, but the rhythm don't stop Struggling for warmth under grey winter skies But I see the old country alive in your eyes Irish pennywhistle floating over the snare Heavy bass sliding through the freezing cold air We carry the stories of exile and stone Building a temple out of brick on our own Fiddle starts weeping for the souls in the dust While the MPC knocks, in the rhythm we trust It's a long way from Dublin to the red line train But the sorrow and the hope, yeah, they feel the same [Chorus] Oh, let the Celtic soul rise up from the street Where the ancient pipes cry and the heavy drums beat From the blocks of Chicago to the cliffs of the shore We are singing our truths, and we're begging for more Yeah, feel the grit, feel the grace Two worlds colliding in this sacred space [Verse 2] Soulful vocal chants rising up through the steam A street-corner poet chasing down a new dream Sipping black tea with a little bit of honey We spent our lives working for more than just money Acoustic guitar plucking sweet in the background While the 808 sub-bass rattles the ground We got the horn section sounding like brass from the heavens Chasing our ghosts from the midnights to sevens So raise up a glass for the ones who have gone We keep their flame burning from the dusk till the dawn [Chorus] Oh, let the Celtic soul rise up from the street Where the ancient pipes cry and the heavy drums beat From the blocks of Chicago to the cliffs of the shore We are singing our truths, and we're begging for more Yeah, feel the grit, feel the grace Two worlds colliding in this sacred space [Outro] (The heavy beat slowly drops out, leaving a solitary fiddle and a soft piano) Yeah, Celtic soul Chicago streets Let the wind carry us home (Fades out on a deep bass hum and a whistle echo)
