The runt down by the river.
Canvas sheets that form a home.
Locked within the magic.
Most every moment
spent alone.
Lost within the nature
Yet somehow always finds a way.
To laugh away the madness.
To laugh away that useless pain.
He'd sit and play the fiddle,
to the cows and to the moon.
He'd play the whistle to the stars,
then raise his head long after noon.
I remember once he told me,
"Kid remember this!,
the ones that you have hurt the most
will be the ones your gonna miss!,
Never dwell in anger
never fold or bow to pain.
Take this from a black sheep
the one they think
is lost,
insane."

A shadow fell across the plains
as the air grew cold.
Thunder rolled up in the sky.
The day and me
both growing old.
And as the lightning pierced the clouds.
My tired eyes were on the road.
A lesson lived
A lesson learned.
We can't live on love alone.

Up ahead a diner.
A respite from the cold and rain.
Shelter with a greasy spoon.
A place for time to while away.
Upon the foggy window
I scrawl a heart around our names
And as the waitress brings my food,
I quickly wipe it all away.

Maple syrup pancakes,
foreign to my Irish tongue.
The bacon here's to crispy,
and everybody has a gun.
I wonder what I'd do with one.
That danger in my hands.
Shoot my way to glory,
or fall upon the promised land.

A rumble of thunder brings me back.
Reality ensues.
All the madness leaves my mind,
then it's left with you.
Seven thousand miles away
waiting on your own.
I leave that thought there
with the tip.
and return to the road.

Outside the air is crispy,
like the bacon in the bin.
Now its time to focus,
channel out a way to win.
The road ahead might bring the rain.
Alas I must go on.
The jukebox through the window
singing out our favourite song.

A million shovel fulls of sand,
and this is not the life I'd planned.
Yet every raindrop on my head
Reminds me of the way things play.
The way somebody's point of view,
leads us down a different road.
The way life teaches something new,
from the cradle to the grave.

A million shovel fulls of sand,
plucked from Dublins sacred soil.
Reminds me of a distant past.
Reminds me of a different age.
The cobble stones.
The memories.
Lost amongst it all.
The raindrops that fell upon my head,
have been the ones
that made me strong.

Branches, on a lonely tree.
Growing, in a lonely field.
Where the green,
falls to the sea.
Into the blue,
Into the deep.

There, upon the coral floor.
Dancing,
with the changing tides.
Swaying,
going with the flow.
Forever reaching
to the light.

Branches,
underneath the moon.
Dancing
with the western winds.
Waiting for the Sun to come.
Another day
to begin.

Scrolling,
up and down the page.
An old soul,
from a different age.
A soul,
with memories of fields.
A place.
Without a place to be.

Underneath the sky each night.
All the love
and all the fights.
Never captured by the lens.
Never needing to pretend.

The freedom, that we took for granted.
Lost, with all the hope
we planted.
In the future
and the world.....
Bring me back to 94.

Throw a kiss upon the wind.
On every fear
and every sin.

A smile,
up to the distant stars.
To everything
that seems so far.

To all the old souls
shining there.
To every reason
why you care.

Throw a kiss upon the wind.
Her whistling lips,
and all she sings.

Sweeping up the needled tree.
She wonders,
how things seem to be.
She looks out of the window
to the sky.

She takes her rest
upon the chair.
She thinks about
the ones who care
and then about the ones
that cease to be.

And though her world is troubled,
she's still smiling all the same.
Reflecting on the memories,
the ones that keep her sane.

Her eyes upon a photograph.
A memory in time.
She's reading his old poetry
forever lost between the lines.