Irish blood
And I found solace in the wood
In the years they locked me up 
Because of a lack of love
And I said I was willing to die
And they thought I was going to try
But what they don’t understand 
Is that this land
Means more to me 
Than I could ever express in a word set free
It’s not enough to liberate 
Myself from this body into another state
I must come back to form 
Because everyone that’s warm
Is fighting a battle to find
Something of themselves they’ve left behind
In the ether and ashes 
And all the clashes 
Between foreign forces
And the eminent divorces
That we all go through
Are nothing to the Divine that you
Discover when you look within
And there are some who deride Him 
When there making sarcasm count 
But there is no amount 
Of time or space
That could ever lay waste
To the ground in between 
And the sages say that it is a dream 
To speak that maya is real 
It is a story that the devil steal 
To weave a web around your head 
Til you’re sweating as you’re lying in bed
And I was in Room Sixteen 
In Dean Swift and the moonbeam 
Scattered light across my floor
I was scared to open the door
Coz I could hear screams from Special Care
And I couldn’t meet the people’s stare 
As they sought to meet me in the dire
But I had set the whole thing on fire
And I was watching as it burned down
Knowing I could never return to this town 
On the outskirts of sane
They would call my name
And I would respond
But something in me abscond 
And had left behind what I thought I knew
I died for him and I died for you
Because my Saviour didn’t wait for the thread to pass through 
The eye of the needle in the tapestry
Do you mind if I weave my own story of me
And I fight with the doctor to own
My narrative because I have sown 
The fabric in my coat of many shades
I may have the ace of spades
But they still hold the crown 
Like the king of keeping us down 
In the reverb of what we shouldn’t see
Would I be right if I said you were talking to me?