X-Ray Specs
Posted: Fri Feb 16, 2018 5:19 pm
X-Ray Specs
by Lichen Throat
They’re piling up pallets and tires
For the bonfires,
Marching through town in dark suits
And orange sashes,
Giving no thought to who must
Clean up the ashes.
Don’t have X-ray specs to see which bloody side you’re on
Or to see the rot inside your heart.
Call your local murderer a loyal paragon,
Put up hateful murals and call them art.
They spend more effort building bombs
Than giving alms,
Complain about oppression during
the potato blight,
Two centuries of looking
For a fight.
Don’t have X-ray specs to see which bloody side you’re on
Or to see the rot inside your heart.
Corrupt the images of the shamrock and leprechaun;
Whine about the loss of your birthright.
Riding through the Shanklll
Or out on the Falls Road,
Everyone feels they’re getting
Less than what they’re owed.
Graffiti on the wall that reads
“Tracey where’s your head?”
Reminds you that bitter old men
Don’t care if you’re alive or dead.
Don’t have X-ray specs to see which bloody side you’re on
Or to see the rot inside your heart.
Spend some time to end this destructive phenomenon,
Or spend the rest of your lives split apart.
by Lichen Throat
They’re piling up pallets and tires
For the bonfires,
Marching through town in dark suits
And orange sashes,
Giving no thought to who must
Clean up the ashes.
Don’t have X-ray specs to see which bloody side you’re on
Or to see the rot inside your heart.
Call your local murderer a loyal paragon,
Put up hateful murals and call them art.
They spend more effort building bombs
Than giving alms,
Complain about oppression during
the potato blight,
Two centuries of looking
For a fight.
Don’t have X-ray specs to see which bloody side you’re on
Or to see the rot inside your heart.
Corrupt the images of the shamrock and leprechaun;
Whine about the loss of your birthright.
Riding through the Shanklll
Or out on the Falls Road,
Everyone feels they’re getting
Less than what they’re owed.
Graffiti on the wall that reads
“Tracey where’s your head?”
Reminds you that bitter old men
Don’t care if you’re alive or dead.
Don’t have X-ray specs to see which bloody side you’re on
Or to see the rot inside your heart.
Spend some time to end this destructive phenomenon,
Or spend the rest of your lives split apart.