This blood on my hands never seemed so bad
'til you gave me a weapon and yelled your command

Christophe Capewell

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open letter to stephen fry

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ground frost
live recording from athlone, ireland


. .
Ground Frost

words & music: ciaran flynn

My brothers sent me searching for ground frost
They stayed at home, hoped the schools would be closed
On the old road that ran right by our home
Traffic slowed for snow we'd throw.
I always looked forward to the cars that got stuck
That's when the snow would come straight back at us
Like stones.

And girls it didn't matter, we were all just the same
A red woollen hat to us was fair game
And no-one complained.
Today I'm still feeling that fist-full of ice
Irene got even with a hit to the eye
And oh! How sweet the pain.

Back home this winter, looking for snow
Strange all that's changed in a town you've outgrown.

So where are you at, my white field of dreams,
I'm back here to see what the new year is bringing me
Back where I sat on the sled 'long these streets
Was it all just a dream, what I thought.
I thought was a memory?

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