Tea Leaves Turn To Gunpowder

[Verse 1]
They dressed our sweat in silver frames
Hung our backs in their fine halls
They toast our hunger with our wages
Then call us "small"
Then call us "small"
Your carriage rides on broken boots
On knuckles cracked and raw
We iron shirts for iron hearts
We know your names
We know your law
[Chorus]
Tea leaves turn to gunpowder
When you boil us long enough
Raise that cup
We’ll raise this country
Watch the velvet tear and rough
You feast above our empty tables
Sing of order
Speak of grace
Tea leaves turn to gunpowder
When it’s thrown back in your face
[Verse 2]
You lock the land with paper chains
Red wax on stolen soil
But ink can’t bind a flooded field
Or frighten hands that learned from toil
We pass the word in baker’s bags
In hymns the chapel choir bends
A nod
A knock
A flame at dusk
Their rules will snap
Their season ends
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
[whispered vocals]
Count the coins
My lord
My lady
Count the chimneys
Count the graves
[louder
Gang vocals]
Count the boots outside your doorway
Hear them drum like ocean waves
[stomps and claps build
Call-and-response]
One for every stolen acre
One for every broken vow
You taught us how to take your orders
Now hear us shout them backward now
[Chorus]

folk, Raucous fast-paced Irish folk with female vocals, bodhrán and low drum stomps locking with sharp handclaps. Fiddle and tin whistle trade frantic riffs over driving acoustic guitar. Verses spit quick, story-rich lines; chorus is a shout-along gang vocal that jumps an octave for impact. Occasional unison stop-starts for tension, then everyone crashes back in full tilt., female vocals, irish folk