I would like to live in Sweden. When my work is done. Where the snow lies crisp and even. 'Neath the midnight sun. Safe and clean and green and modern.
I was born in Londonderry. I was born in Derry City too. Oh what a special child. To see such things and still to smile. I knew that there was something wrong.
Pale, pubescent beasts. Roam through the streets. And coffee shops. Their prey gather in herds. Of stiff knee-length skirts. And white ankle socks. But while they search for a mate.
Smoking my six-hundredth last cigarette. Out of the studio sky-light. Watching the ash as it rolls down the roof. Leaving a trail of grey-white. . All through its short life it gives of itself.
Without blindness. There is no sight. You'd see the further if you'd only close your eyes. . In unconsciousness. I can find peace. Inside prison walls I can find release.