From
the hills of the morns
To the black and male bogs
And the shorelines of Dundalk
The river blood of Cork
From the old and ancient clans
To Mumbler's weathered hands And the house where I was born
And the skin that I adorn Blood,
love,
guilt from above
Words,
an absence of
It is all that I am
It is all that I am
From the poor mouths gone before
To the boats across the shore
The extending family tree
From New York to Inishfree
To the mind that I've become
In the shadow of the sun
And the words my brother wrote
That I keep inside my throat Blood,
love,
guilt from above
Love,
word,
my words
An absence of
It is all that I am
It is all that I am
It is all that I am
It is all that I am
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