The saint was born the day that I died
Like Gandalf the Grey becoming the White 
And there was no absorbing light 
Only a peaceful flame 
That does not go by any name 
You could call it earthy awareness 
And I could guess
What you mean by that 
But it gives you something it can’t take back
And when the dream is rendered moot
No one can play the flute
Not with you, not anymore
And they think I close the door
But the reality is I am pulled away
From the places I cannot stay
There is distance in between 
Me and her and her and what they seem
To be 
But free
Does not mean foolish or prude
I’m sorry if I appear a little rude
But I’ve got to speak my mind
When I don’t I do hard time 
At the institution they call St. Pat’s 
And there are welcome mats 
With my name written on 
They don’t realise I’m already gone 
As who I used to stand as 
And it’s nothing bad
But it is unusual and unexpected 
And it’s not as thought I would have rejected
Him without good reason
His love is a season
In the infinity of space time 
For a moment he was mine
And then we were separated 
Like the schools where we were educated 
In to make good people of us
With rulers and lines and teachers we could trust 
Some at least 
And I wonder if the last supper is a feast
Like it’s portrayed
And if Judas was dismayed
To be singled out like that 
And I wonder what was he at
To betray a saviour true
Til I had it done to me too 
By a girl I used to know 
She cracked the whip so I let her go 
And I don’t know if time is fast or slow
All I’ve realised is that it doesn’t exist though 

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