Lamplight Suite, For Soot and Tall Mirrors

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Aaron McMullan

13:10

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Just haul your wheest there, McAleese
'Gon lee them weans alone
Shake thon shite back down your sleeve and hunt thon cunts on home
There's too much talk's in them two
You know as well as I do

And corduroy ripped out the knees
Runes all sewn into his face
Says I knew your da, boy, your da and me, sure we made this place
Walked thon Belfast-Derry line
Seen the time we'd walk for days

1998, the side gate swings
There's things that have been left upon the rocks nearest the well
And who's to tell if it was Holy Ones or him snatched the brandy and tobacco tins away?
Sure who's to say, and anyway
What's below his arm can harm no-one no more

Rips the tube from underneath your gown
How many times is this, she says, we're talking now?
How many times that you've been found in time?
How many nearlies is it now?

You know a day will come when the day will dim,
And they will trolley you in,
And they will trolley you out
And the last of you in streaks of blue and black about the sheets
And the numbers that they'll scratch into the heels of both your feet
And the code that shows the date the time the door the ditch the street

Halleluiah, f*ck sake!

They'll say it's such a waste of such good taste
They'll say he knew his stuff like knowing stuff was enough
They'll say that he was loved like anybody's love was love enough
Like it was ever love enough

To the culling, to the calling of them all that sweeps the waters
To the rosemary figs and juniper
To the pounding that surrounds me, oh the beating of all drums that thunder
All up and all around me all the time in time with her

Half a glance, half cut, and half way home
Sure what the f*ck, but, and slabbering and jabbing your phone
Twisting through and they're all twisted up inside of you
All up and through the back of you
Cumming up the cracks of you
And the scales that fails you

And the scales that fails and fails you again
And the salted heels of shrouded men
Reflections bouncing all directions
Bits they're busy stretching out
And what's left to leave they'll leave and mark their brows with blood you'll bleed
And they'll never dare to bleed their own blood anywhere

Barefoot all up the stairs, now!

I have slept and I have dreamed beneath the branches you were seen and heard
To cry helpless and hopelessly towards
And I have woken withering
My limbs all sunken now within your skin
The bin lids off the bonnets
The tensing to each chord

4 in the morning
Half 4 in the fucking morning, like
F*ck are you going at 4 in the morning
F*ck are you doing now...

Picking the walls
Picking and poking away at the back of the walls
There's f*ck all in thon wall's f*ck all to do wi' you

Jesus kneeling
Jesus kneeling by the banks
Jesus working at the clay and stones
Birds he's made from muck chucked up beat off the bells
Ones sleeping
Woken shaking in the breaking of the blackbirds off the bells oh well

Crows he throws that's made from dirt
Sparrows seized in all the light and all the fits they're in
The birds that's only bits of him
And bits of breath
The birds erupting in their breasts
Birds he makes that shakes in fits and bursts in flight and Jesus Christ you talk some shite

4 in the morning
Half 4 in the fucking morning
F*ck are you doing at 4 in the morning
F*ck are you looking now?

Your skin all clouding over, the static sweeps my fingers
The things that ones have left within her
The verses scrawled about her
Ones that sits like this in pools of piss and breath above and breath below
Ones that falls in through the window
Scorching underneath my clothes
Stinking stewing in my stink

He doesn't know
He doesn't know

The starlings only know enough to fly, they don't know why
Enough to land
Enough to blow to bits in holy hands

Said a quarter would sort you, but you couldn't be told
Now they're all in the hall, they're hauling you out the road
They're shining lights in the skies
They're prising open both your eyes
Sniffing papers out your coat
The bindles spilled, the screens you broke

But sure it never even happened, but!

To the glow hums below the shuddered rooms wi' all your friends in
And they're wringing at the wrists and all the kisses never ending
The buds about the blues
The friends you'll lose
There's only rips of ribbons left
You had a lost them sooner you'd a lost a whole lot less

2005 and I've an eight point star beneath one eye
Three or four years sober and there's mandolins and drums
And ones has brought their songs to sing
And ask if I have anything of mine?
I've two or three
I'll all off key
My throat's all swollen from the sea

But no one minds

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