Tall Ships

Matthew CauseyMatthew Causey 

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Matthew Causey

Matthew Causey (born 1953) is an American academic, film and theatre maker, singer-songwriter and actor. He is associate professor at Trinity College, Dublin and director of the Arts Technology Research Laboratory in the School of Drama, Film and Music. He received his PhD in Drama from Stanford University, where he wrote, produced, and performed in his trilogy of plays, The History of the Avant-Garde (Kill the Dog, 1991; The Laboratory of Hallucinations, 1992; Death, 1993).He made his film debut as Pondo Sinatra in the 1984 cult comedy The Party Animal. more »

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Green train runs through the city
Like some of kind putrified blood lost of all its colors
No more red and blue now just a slickly paleness

The prostitutes and junkies walk through the night
And no one walks into a local without a invitation
The fluorescents knock you back
And tell you to go away and quick

There are no street signs
If you don't know where you are
Then you're in the wrong place
A blow-in from somewheres else

See yahs at the methadone clinic
Running along Pearse Street
Between the black river and
The holy and undivided Trinity

The council houses erupt with the screams
Of families ripping themselves apart
With what little they have
To tear themselves up with
But a bag of crisps and a sugar drink
Make a fine breakfast for a family of eight

And it was Dostoevsky wrote these words
Men and women deprived of meaningful work
Lose their reason for existence
They go stark, raving mad

So they queue up for a job
They queue up for the dole
They queue up for a hand out
Stark raving mad

And the woman walks
Between the cars at the streetlight
Hoping to have some money to show her man
Who doesn't take an empty cup lightly

A young man took a screwdriver
To the head of two Polish workers
And pleaded drunkenness and bereavement
He'll be sloppin' out at Mountjoy for a couple of years
And back out in no time

And the Americans with their
Matching white trainers
And stuffed backpacks
Search out the green thatched roof utopia

The Nigerian taxi driver was beaten to death on Pearse and Lower Erne
And the young woman from India was told
'This is a Catholic Country'

But no one is looking for a priest to do anything at all
They're all laid out on the trolleys
Waiting for a room to die in

And the emergency room is its own emergency,
And any self-respecting nurse would call it hopeless
And triage it out of existence

Seems like a cancer cluster has appeared
In the square with Lillie and Margo and Dimple and Matthew
Queuing up at the linear accelerator

It's a north side south side divide
Split by a river of filth
Tall ships with the ghosts of a famine
Now turned to stone at the feet of the financial centre
All dried up itself

And it was Dostoevsky wrote these words
Deprived of meaningful work
Men and women lose their reason for existence
They go stark, raving mad

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