What is the call of New York
And why is there a fork 
In the road and on the table 
And I am not able 
To leave it all behind 
Even if I must go out of my mind
Or be labelled as such 
Because I love you so much 
And I couldn’t be there when you died
Because the man asked me how I am and I cried
So I got locked up in St. Pat’s again 
And it may be the will of men
To contain what they don’t understand 
But I look at you and you just say “it’s grand, 
I won’t leave you a grá mo chroí”
And even though my broken knee
Falls to the floor
I know there’s more
Than just screaming into the air
“She’s not there, she’s not there”
And it was all I could do not to hit my head off the wall
And they console me but I fall 
Into their lap and rebel against the constraint
Of being okay with the colour she paint
Because everyone has their own way
But I must do what she say
If I’m not to be medicated
And I may be educated 
But it has been the work of my life
To make sure I don’t become a wife
And go down with the ship 
Or the forests that they equip 
With cutting trees
And the birds and the bees 
Buzz around my head
But I would give it all up just to lay in bed
And mourn 
And look forlorn 
Because all that shattered glass
Never got me an A in class
It only ever drew blood
Now I’m standing in the wood
Trying to catch the soul that escape 
And the red cape 
Couldn’t stop the passage of time 
And my only crime 
Was trying to pause the air
Now I look at your chair and you’re not there

Image Credit: https://pin.it/2Fl2VHdmT