We are circling the drain
The end pulls us near
The sound of the forbidden song gets louder
As we draw near.

ᑲᐃᕙᑉᐳᒍᑦ ᑯᕕᕕᒥᑦ
ᓄᓱᑕᐅᕗᒍᑦ ᐃᓱᐊᓄᑦ ᖃᓪᓕᓪᓗᑕ
ᐃᖏᑕᐅᖁᔭᐅᓯᒪᒎᓐᓂᑐᖅ ᓂᑉᐱᑭᕈᖅᐸᓕᐊᕗᖅ
ᖃᓕᕙᓕᐊᒐᑦᑕ

Siúd linn timpeall ar an draein
Tá deireadh ama dár mealladh chuige
Tá glór an amhráin choiscthe ag dul i méid
De réir mar atáimid ag druidim leis.

Like Balor we have 3 eyes
We pulled back the blind to see such mysteries
But we poisoned the glen
We poisoned everything

ᕚᓗᑎᑐᑦ ᐃᔨᖃᖁᒍᑦ ᐱᖓᓱᓂ
ᑕᓗᕈᑕᐃᕋᑦᑕ ᑕᑯᕗᒍᑦ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᓐᓇᖏᑐᓂᑦ
ᑭᓯᐊᓂ ᓱᕈᑎᕆᕗᒍᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᑦ
ᓱᕈᑦᑎᕆᕗᒍᑦ ᑭᓱᓕᒫᓂᑦ

Dála Bhalair, tá an tríú súil againn
Nochtamar an tsúil chaoch go bhfeicimis na hiontais
Ach chuireamar nimh sa ghleann
Mhilleamar gach uile ní lenár gcuid nimhe.

Our eye was supposed to make us all seeing
But we rammed it deep within this land
And made it barren
Now this toxic drain will make everything forgotten

ᐃᔨᕗᑦ ᑕᐅᑐᔪᑎᒋᓂᐊᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ ᑭᓱᓕᒫᓂᑦ
ᑭᓯᐊᓂᓕ ᑲᐃᒥᐅᑎᒋᓯᒪᕙᕗᑦ ᓄᓇᒧᑦ ᐃᑎᔪᒧᑦ
ᑭᓱᑕᖃᕈᓐᓃᑎᑐᒍ
ᒪᓐᓇᓕ ᓱᕈᓐᓇᖅᑐᖅ ᑯᕕᕕᒃ ᐳᐃᒍᐃᑎᑦᑎᕗᖅ


An tsúil sin is í a nochtfadh gach ní dúinn
Ach chuireamar go domhain faoi thalamh í
Bhaineamar an grinneas aisti
Draein seo na nimhe súfaidh sé cuimhní an tsaoil.

We are the last of the artists,
What happens when we are gone?
What happens to the sounds created
Will the sound become unstrung

ᑭᖑᓕᖅᐹᖑᓕᖁᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᕙᑦᑐᔾᒍᑦ
ᖃᓄᐃᑑᓚᖅᑲ ᑕᕝᕙᐅᒍᓐᓂᕈᑦᑕ?
ᓇᒧᖓᓚᖃ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓰᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ?
ᑐᓴᓈᒐᑦ ᓱᕋᑦᑎᓛᖅᑳᑦ?

Sinne an ghlúin deiridh de shliocht na healaíne
Céard atá i ndán tar éis ár n-imeachta?
Céard is cinniúint don bhinneas a bhí?
An amhlaidh a bhainfear na téada den cheol?

Like O’Carolan lamentations,
Will these notes be unpicked,
Now we are the blind ones
Who have made this land sick,

ᐅᑳᕈᓚᓐ ᐅᖃᓪᓚᐅᓯᖓᑎᑐᑦ
ᑎᑎᖅᑲᐃᑦ ᐱᔭᖅᑕᐅᓂᐊᕆᕚ
ᐅᕙᒍᖔᖅ ᑕᐅᑐᒍᓐᓃᖁᒍᑦ
ᖃᕗᐃᓯᒪᕗᒍᑦ ᓄᓇᒥᑦ

Dála mharbhnaí Uí Chearbhalláin
Beidh na téada sin gan spreagadh
Is sinne feasta na daill
Is sinne a scaip síol an ghalair sa tír.

We are the last of the artists,
What happens when we are gone?
What happens to the sounds created
Will the sound become unstrung

ᑭᖑᓕᖅᐹᖑᓕᖁᒍᑦ ᓴᓇᕙᑦᑐᔾᒍᑦ
ᖃᓄᐃᑑᓚᖅᑲ ᑕᕝᕙᐅᒍᓐᓂᕈᑦᑕ?
ᓇᒧᖓᓚᖃ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓰᑦ ᓴᓇᓯᒪᔭᕗᑦ?
ᑐᓴᓈᒐᑦ ᓱᕋᑦᑎᓛᖅᑳᑦ?

Sinne an ghlúin deiridh de shliocht na healaíne
Céard atá i ndán tar éis ár n-imeachta?
Céard is cinniúint don bhinneas a bhí?
An amhlaidh a bhainfear na téada den cheol?

What is our future of our sounds unsung,
What emptiness awaits us,
Will there be nothing ever hummed.
Who will drink from our skulls

ᖃᓄᐃᑐᒥᑦ ᓯᕗᓂᔅᓴᖃᕿᑖ ᓂᐸᐃᑦᑐᒥ
ᕿᓱᑕᖃᖏᑐᒨᑦ ᐅᑕᖅᑭᔭᐅᕕᑕ
ᖃᖓᓕᒫᖅ ᓂᔾᔭᐅᓯᔭᐅᒦᑦ ᓂᓕᐊᔮᒍᓃᕿᑖ
ᑭᒃᑯᓕ ᐃᒥᕈᒫᓕᖃᑦ ᓂᐊᖁᒥᓂᖅᑎᓐᓂ

Céard atá i ndán don bhinneas balbh gan ghlór?
Cá folús atá ag feitheamh linn?
An é go mbeifear gan fonn go brách
Cé a ólfaidh deoch as corn ár mblaoisce?