I wish I was beautiful
Not because I want attention from boys
Not because I want spread my legs open to every man I see

I want to be beautiful
So then I can be confident about myself
So then I don't have to worry about being cheated on
So then someone will love me

My dad dug his foot into my back like a shovel breaking soil.
If I do enough push ups, can I put a smile on your face.
If I move the earth for you, will meteors stop me.

I carried sparklers in my hands while cannon-kisses erupted in the sky,
and my cousin swore that I'd hurt myself.
But I explained to him that history repeats itself,
and that my hurt is unavoidable.

Like the hug of a grieving grandmother,
and the staring off into space,
as her tears stain my white oxford lie.
There's no way to get out of this place.
Finding new ways to live in death.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.

And her fingers left a ******* on my back.
And my mouth melted onto hers.
I love her until my eyes **** in sleep.
And it's deep. And it's deep.

The swirl of the ceiling sank down
like a child being drowned by his mother.
And I missed my brother, and I missed it all.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.
No, not anymore.

I want to read you

Like the fine print

In the Terms and Conditions

Written in Braille

So I can feel

Every word written

On your heart

This madman's song
It vibrates through my veins
I feel pain

This madman's song
It bruises my pale skin
As we dance
Why do we dance

This madman's song
You love it so well
I close my eyes as we dance
But not softly
I close them tightly
As tears slither down the apples of my cheeks

This madman's song
It turns my pale skin to the color of black and blue

Why madman
Why do you hurt me

I am tired of dancing
My throat is soar from screaming
Are you happy now
You have won

Every bone in me is broken
Every inch of my pale skin is black and blue
Even my heart is shaded grey
It's filled with a mist where I've had no love

Finally

This madman's song is ending
My eyes are closed
But please no casket
I'd like to be ash
And poor me over the mountain tops
So then i can see the world

There will always be someone who will write a song about drugs, *** and hoes
And there will always be an award
Thank god for that
Because I'm sure God didn't want you to write songs like that

Here is the city—
its worn-down mountains,
its grass and iron,
its smoky coast
seen from the high roads
on the Wicklow side.

From Dalkey Island
to the North Wall,
to the blue distance seizing its perimeter,
its old divisions are deep within it.

And in me also.
And always will be.

Out of my mouth they come:
The spurred and booted garrisons.
The men and women
they dispossessed.

What is a colony
if not the brutal truth
that when we speak
the graves open.

And the dead walk?

There is two types of people
Those who show beauty
And those who hide it

Those who show beauty have nothing else to show
And those who hide it have something else within that they want people to see

I for one show my beauty
Because I know no one will take time to see the real me

Life is nothing but time
Everyone knows that
So why waste time out of your worthless life to see beyond someone's beauty?