I look at the photograph and think of the people I’ve lost
And wonder why life has to pay the cost
Of being born 
The painting’s rendered and then it’s torn 
In two, down the middle 
And I spent some time in Spiddel 
When I was thirteen years old 
It was before the gold 
Broke into fourteen 
After I’d lost my grandmother to the scene 
And I’d pattern the stars on the wall 
Making constellations of them all 
I was not alone 
And I’m almost crying on the phone
As I ring home 
Fast forward a couple of weeks
I’m sad coz we’ll never speak 
To those girls again 
And I could call each one friend 
As I sleep on the top bunk
And there was a moment my heart sunk 
For the shame of what I did 
I’m always inconsiderate to the point of flipping the lid
Before I screw it on 
I loved a boy then I was gone 
And we are nevermore
Why does God give me people to adore
Then take them away again 
I wish I could say I was on the mend
But I have no will to be
I just want to be set free
From the illusion 
Of my own confusion 
Held in colours I create
It’s a disease I can’t inoculate