When the dark of night takes on the gentle glow of a soft Irish morning, when even the wolf, its jaws still fresh with the blood of the souls collected returns home to become a lamb again. When rubied lips and curling smoke cease to grace hidden doorways in the rain-slicked streets of Dublin. When bad men shake the rain from the leather of broad shoulders and enter their beds. Only then, only then can lies, fear and hatred be tucked beneath the pillow as they slumber.
Only a certain type of man can raise above the crimson. A very different world exists away from the safety of faked white Hollywood teeth.
Far off lands that boast Cadillacs and Route 66 with extra fries live only in the minds of the weak. Jack Daniels, Mickey Mouse, merely names of those who fail to walk the walk. In Dublin men talk in hushed whispers about those who send the bombs to maim. Union flags and red hands lick stamps that intend to kill those who wear the green. Something inside so strong. One man carries the Irish nation from the Alba shores, one man defies the crimson and stands before the mast. But we are all that man, not one, but all.
Let the people sing, and let the bald fella be our voice. We are all one man, he is all of the people.
Talent and good looks as well as your team on the top and the other ones with empty pockets... Did you make a deal with the devil? nice song mate... Cheers, Sausage.
Keep going....Ponita and I will get a CD out of you yet!
So sweetly soothing as I've just gotten back from the dentist and 2 hours of work for a crown, complete with gum surgery! Funny, doesn't hurt as much now that I've listened to you. :)
Hope, he's been complaining on FB that he needs a new PR team!!! I think we need to go over there (you need a holida, right? yeah, me too) and get this all straightened out!! ;-)
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteWhen the dark of night takes on the gentle glow of a soft Irish morning, when even the wolf, its jaws still fresh with the blood of the souls collected returns home to become a lamb again. When rubied lips and curling smoke cease to grace hidden doorways in the rain-slicked streets of Dublin. When bad men shake the rain from the leather of broad shoulders and enter their beds. Only then, only then can lies, fear and hatred be tucked beneath the pillow as they slumber.
ReplyDeleteOnly a certain type of man can raise above the crimson. A very different world exists away from the safety of faked white Hollywood teeth.
Far off lands that boast Cadillacs and Route 66 with extra fries live only in the minds of the weak. Jack Daniels, Mickey Mouse, merely names of those who fail to walk the walk. In Dublin men talk in hushed whispers about those who send the bombs to maim. Union flags and red hands lick stamps that intend to kill those who wear the green. Something inside so strong. One man carries the Irish nation from the Alba shores, one man defies the crimson and stands before the mast. But we are all that man, not one, but all.
Let the people sing, and let the bald fella be our voice. We are all one man, he is all of the people.
That went very well with my morning coffee. Thanks. Scramble two.
ReplyDeleteTalent and good looks as well as your team on the top and the other ones with empty pockets...
ReplyDeleteDid you make a deal with the devil?
nice song mate...
Cheers, Sausage.
Keep going....Ponita and I will get a CD out of you yet!
ReplyDeleteSo sweetly soothing as I've just gotten back from the dentist and 2 hours of work for a crown, complete with gum surgery! Funny, doesn't hurt as much now that I've listened to you. :)
Hope, he's been complaining on FB that he needs a new PR team!!! I think we need to go over there (you need a holida, right? yeah, me too) and get this all straightened out!! ;-)
ReplyDelete@Ponita: So how hard are we allowed to kick his arse for trying to get rid of us before we even started? ;)
ReplyDelete