Alabaster Skin

There’s murder in the air

The old folks have bent their heads just to taste it

You know the young they easily scare

When the bodies burned I saw them turn they couldn’t face it

The sky is still ablaze

And I’ve gone walking where the Lagan leaves the city

And still the young can’t hold their gaze

They’ve not forgotten how your alabaster skin looked so pretty

A plume like looming mountains

Stretching the county line

I get the urge to follow but I decline

Honey, I’ve been dreaming of an awful rage

In another body

In another language