Lyrics Little rain drops whip on the whitewashed walls and kitchen windows Where I sit alone on the shaky wooden table where fables and stories Unfurled from your words and our world was entwined, a young child Who smiled at the jokes you told. I'm just about to visit your ward, miracles Lord, miracles, Lord, please give us some more time, the spiritual thoughts Of my mother reside inside of my heart while I try to find Some words before you depart to summarise the binds and bonds, We shared in your life upon this earth. Grandfather your worth I immerse in this verse I rehearsed In the waiting weeks for the worst, for you gave me the words Which I work and weave into each breath that I breathe Still can't believe how quickly we grieve, seems a dream That only last month are hands shook and you danced up And down the garden kicking a rolled up pair of socks, Now you'll go where I'm not and I know your scared, Calling out for your brother in the night, we throw the prayers Skywards, looking in your eyes which cry silent When you read the words I write before your failing sight And the world pales to white. I don't know how to say goodbye, I don't know how to save a life, I don't know how to save your wife, So I wake in the night in cold sweats and shaking with fright Already thinking which phrase to recite At your funeral, soon you will be my happy memories, Teacher who was sent to me, with the wisdom of centuries How could you be meant to leave, and mentally we're broken Soaking in these elegies my pen strokes that when spoken Open wounds to one day close them. Remember we would cycle on the hill sides, With the wind in our eyes, what a thrill ride, Instilled pride to your grand kids, visit my school Taught lessons in your languish, a blessing that the anguish Was vanquished for so long, now so long and farewell Don't fare well for words, now your welfare is worse And we watch the nurse... tell comforting lies, Try to cushion demise, blood rushing inside And gushing from cancerous cells, a man who was hailed Strong and alive, dying next to me while the song that I write You will never read, I pray you that you rest in peace, And the pain that kept you leaves and your son Sean, Again you will meet. The rain beats on the street You are able to see, I wish the sun would shine And the grey would fade and retreat so light Would arrive and stay to complete the cycle of life, You're painfully weak, and in pain that we see What we have to see, but it's okay I'm here to the last my friend We laughed with friends in the living room of my student house Last year, while you hovered round and joked at the mess, I still hoped for the best, not knowing you'd be slowing Till they opened your chest and pressed pressure To coax out your breath, I'm broke and depressed, Lonely and stressed, same old clothes that I dress With the scent of ward 17, I never dreamed I'd ever see Scenes like these. Breaks my heart to hear saying that you'll go home To a farm, in Ireland where you spent your childhood, Fishing in seas, so cold that your fingers would freeze In the whistling breeze, and the grass rich and green WIth the sky dipped in the sheen of bright blue, I try to live in this dream but all I see is clinically clean Drips and beakers, uniforms and nervous speakers So I close my eyes, and I close my ears. I see you on a beach with old jeans rolled to the knees While the warm water flows to your feet, Over the worn golden soul then goes in retreat, Leaving the foam combing driftwood and white sand. Your slight hands opened to a palm and wave like the ocean Eyes bright with excitement, and quiet emotion Devotion to the next stage, so when the boat comes… You wade waist deep and climb in, say goodbye then Head to the horizon, wind in the sails, you sail From land farther. Safe journey, my beloved Grandfather.

I am deeply flawed, I mean that maybe about five people listening can see that, I just got off the phone with my dad, and we don't have much in common, so we speak about his dad, and how we miss him, like clouds miss spring rains when the pressure gets too much, and they let them go If you were here now you'd let me know that I worry too much, I hurry too much to make bad choices, mum tells me to listen out for angels, all I hear is sad voices tired choirs, crumpled notes, organs in need of desperate repair I act like I'm desperate to tear hearts, missing the spare parts of courage for my scared heart more of a liar, than a lion, I take pride in relying on trying to share scars, have some of mine, there will come a time when lady luck realises i'm an unreliable date, an undesirable mate, Her and a God can meet to decide on my fate, and say ' nah it's complicated' I concentrated as a child on growing up to be a fireman hero it was either that or a tyrannosaurus, and preferably both, to my dreams I was immeasurably close funny how you grow apart with age, I'm taking the stage with artists I idolised, and my careers taking off, but I can't shake off the fears of my private life, I've done many people wrong, and they don't need this song, to identify my worst traits, they got them first hand in the first place, fuck what the verse says, 1.35 Back with the caterpillar cakes on birthdays I dreamed of butterflies in my stomach, when I took to flight, I imagined the books I'd write, the oceans I'd dive, the cliffs I'd climb, I imagined rope bridges in rain forests, I made promise to stay honest, I dreamed of playing pool with the planets, rolling them out like marbles, while I marvel at the dark cloth of the night, I dreamed of asking the stars, their favourite type of light, hoping they'd say imagination, I dreamed of a girl in a green coat, Walking away as I awoke 2,00 See we all grow and people change, I could offer you a million more cliches learning how to open doors is a key phase, Let me rephrase, expansion is something I recommend and if its good enough for the universe, go on… do your worst, thing is, I'm just too afraid…. the grass might seem greener, but you never know when its about to rain, I know very little about terrain, we messed around in geography, to my year 9 teacher I offer apologies, I don't know where I am now, and my co-ordination is never great after all this vodka lemonade, I want to stop and remonstrate with a God to let me make some important decisions, and she'd say no - yes God is a she, she'd say no, you gotta help yourself, and go back to the dreaming, where's it gone? Oh and by the way what's the meaning of the song? It means - it means - ah fuck what it means how does it feel? I am deeply flawed, I mean that maybe about five people listening can see that, I just got off the phone with my dad, and we don't have much in common, so we speak about his dad, and how we miss him, like clouds miss spring rains when the pressure gets too much, and they let them go For you I watch when the pink of the low sun lifts. Atop the last leaning bricks of your farm you watch for I from a churning sky where copper-tint stars turn in the blackness like coins in soil and the spent shilling of the moon fades in the half-dark. By this light you are most visible, stalking the fields with palm closed over unsown oats, as the night wind grows you are blown like breeze-thrown seeds. The plough glows hot from its work as it harvests your heavenward home. For I watch you by the bricks you warmed when young. I watch for you then the pink of the low sun comes.