Somewhere along the road
Frozen deep at home
I'm not dead yet
But I'm still alone

Melt me with a baseball bat
Crush me to bits
I'm not dead yet
But I still feel like ****

O'er the Causway road
To the lands of the giants
We smile as the Atlantic roars below
The path is green, our hearts says go

Past the rope bridge we sidle on
The skerries frighten us with their brawn
Careful o' oncomers
Breath in,  they're vaughn

The architect's house
Provides little shelter
The harbour fights
The seaweed felters

Near the hill, the Scots and Rathlin anew
No time to stop, no time for a brew
The waters rage
No traffic, no queue

We reach the beach
'n cross the stream
The weather draws in
The water's sea beam

Back home via Bushmills
The Inn is a stop
Guinness and mussels
The head, what a top

On reflection we drop our pace
For this happy journey is not but a race
What a joy those places are for me
What a joy for you to see

Black stone juts out over greying ice,
A mass of alpine greenery,
Half bare, half masked in white;
The motion of a turner painting,
Colours cast through Lowry's eyes.

Camouflaged upon a riverside
With no sign of Lutheran ambition,
As faith faltered, medieval to Christ,
A small church modestly mirages,
Casting simplicity into Nordic pride.

The excitement of the northern lights
Over the precipice of these continents,
American and Eurasian plates collide.
The Langjökull Glacier screams
Witnessing its own untimely demise.

The remoteness captured in the landscape
Starkly contrasts to us who bear witness to it
And in the mirroring of the landscape
A lonely civil dwelling knows nothing
Of war between nature and humankind.

They say all is fair
    In the chase after the wind.
        As it blows to the North bringing frost
                Snow falls upon my love as war and lust
                                          become bed mates.