In the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost
This Catholic education offered no hope
A religious nationalism their only concern
How righteous men must make our land
A nation once again we were foretold
They died in my name
died in my name

This is not now Nineteen Sixteen
Nor from the pages of your history text
This is now my weeping TV screen
A Saturday in a small market town
And twenty nine dead
Twelve kids and a mother pregnant with twins
Not done in my name
not in my name

Heroes don't just rise at Easter
But appear on a Saturday Night Live
Like a mystical phoenix from the flames
Like a newborn filled with indignant rage
Signing of another War
Of fighting the real enemy within
You sing in my name
sing in my name

Aged 25, twenty five years ago
They nailed you to an American cross
As you ripped up that page
Broke their silence, tore down their walls
Who would count the children you saved
If history could recognise heroism in this way
Yet it does in your name
it does in your name
sinead

I was adrift at sea.
Every wave a thought of you.
Every star a hopeful future.
You were the lighthouse in the distance beckoning me to a a warm morning.

Storms raged the water and through the torrential anguish,
I watched the light in the distance.
I watched as it began to fade.
I screamed through the chaos and the fury, reaching out to you.
I grew silent as it vanished from view.


All of the beautiful plans and hopeful might have beens transformed into the torment of what was never meant to be.

The beautiful filth of you will not easily spew from my lungs,
but still I crawl back on a shore
distant from you.
Hopefully time will turn this memory of a lighthouse
into the faintest of ghosts,
one which only haunts in the blackest of nights and the loneliest of paths.