#1
The young little Pagan boy fumbles with his school-books,
Stop, trip a little, curse and continue on -
Not concerned in the least with well-worn, cunningly shabby looks.
He advertises promises not broken and last nights dinner under his chin -
"Hey boy, you're looking a little...thin."
He may seem less and he may seem like the not like,
but we'll all need the Pagan boy down the line,
And after we've shunned him out, and when he says:
"Sorry, maybe you can catch me another time.."

And a late celtic sunset has the little Pagan boy out later than forewarned,
Stop, write a verse or two, sleep, the child gets scorned.
He is the ghost of an Irishman, the skeleton of a warrior -
he fights battles in his head whilst breaking his back upon a
hay-packed and
stained-sheet tacked bed.

He is the many-dirtied prince,
He is a hundred feet down in a pile of others excrement,
No matter how hard he tried, couldn't shake this bruise he'd been sent.
The old drunk on the corner, and the
old priest tired from late nights touching himself -
wanting to be paid for their unsolicited comments.

And so the little Pagan Irish warriror left the cosmop - Dublin -
he left to live with the Green Man, he left to live on Danu.
And as his trail began to be covered by grains of sand on his ole' Irish land -
the pubs and buildings were set ablaze, desperate for the memory, now, of a ghost.
And he looked behind him to view the fire,
And he danced and dropped his school books once and for all,
What good'ey do him,
anyway?

The Green Man brought the little Pagan Irish boy into his home,
Where he would live.
He could be heard in the still of the celtic midnight,
laughing with the Green Man, Danu,
accompanied occasionally and heard only faintly
by Lugh.
Oh, the one lined joker..
Not like Danu - even if we could hear her...

And upon arising one day, a casualty from a masters menstral dream -
after eating nights of plaster,
the Irish Pagan warrior ventured home -
to find if his absense, poise, regret and spite had bought him the
sympathy and a few pounds of remorse and emptiness of the
homela'ners.

Couldn't walk much farther once he saw the ashes -
And reality became as clear as the crystal lake he once fell asleep at,
And as precise as his witty, written
verse.
The buildings still lied on the ground,
and the ashes still lied amongst the bones of ghosts and fortiers
and fallen home-staying kettle-cleaning kitchen warriors.
It seems there is nobody left to scold him, all because he had left them -
not one - and not one hundred - funerals.
And so he conducted them and built them,
and he said,
"Oh, mother Ireland, I'm going to light your fire."

The old, portly Pagan man fumbles with his money-books,
Stop, trip a little, curse and continue on -
Not concerned in the least with well-worn, cunningly shabby looks.
He advertises promises constantly broken and last nights fling under his chin -
"Hey boy, whatever happened to when you were....thin?"
He may seem more and he may seem like the like,
but we all needed the Pagan boy, once, down the line,
Once we shunned him out, when he said:
"Sorry, maybe you can catch me another time.."
Fears a powerful thing
Last edited by Good Eye Closed at Jun 7, 2006,
#3
Quote by Something_Vague
wow.

wow.

wow.


seconded...

wow.

This only proves to me that you Irish bastards are better than the rest of the world.

*will return with more praise later, mark my words*

Edit: by the by, Its nice to have another n00b friend who really knows how to write well and knows what the **** he is doing (not that I'm claiming that aspect about myself or anything, that would just be ****ign arrogant )
Last edited by #1 synth at Jun 5, 2006,
#4
i third that statement....being an irish bastard that made me feel a lot dumber though.....
Quote by RockerPseudonym

Under Influence: A weird look
Minor Posession(A gram or two): Confiscation
Possession w/ intent to distribute(Lots, all bagged out): Jail.
The look on your face when the dealer tells you it's laced with crack: Priceless
#5
the statement has been fourthed.
and may i add, holy christ,
that was really really really amazing.
i don't think i am even grasping the entire reality of how amazing that was.
#6
Youve got to be kidding me. That was so incredibly good.
So thats the second time I got crabs.
#7
This only proves to me that you Irish bastards are better than the rest of the world.


*Will and I jump for joy*
#10
I like it alot. I'm just gonna quickly say that the last stanza is one of the bust summations of a piece I have read in awhile. I just love the way it all turns around and at the end you are left almost where you began, but in a very different light. Honestly, I would have to read it a few more times to grasp the piece as a whole...it is not light reading material. I may come back to it and go into more depth while reading it. Nice job!
#11
good luck singing it or getting some kind of point across. very well written, but it's lacking structure where it doesn't even come acrsoss as lyrics.
Run!
-----------------------------------------------------------
Simply, the world was too small for a man of his ambition.
Quote by ifeastonbums
GuitarSymphony you are my hero!
#12
Quote by GuitarSymphony
good luck singing it or getting some kind of point across. very well written, but it's lacking structure where it doesn't even come acrsoss as lyrics.


The point is actually very clear, at least to me. So I really don't think I need to work on "getting some kind of point across"

and this wasn't intended as your typical verse-chorus lyric, but a far more hefty piece of lyrical prose. Listen to Jethro Tull, Blackmores Night or Dying Fetus to see what I mean.
Fears a powerful thing
#13
None the less it was a great story, well written and very well planned out.

I give you a
www.facebook.com/longlostcomic
#14
Quote by Good Eye Closed
The point is actually very clear, at least to me. So I really don't think I need to work on "getting some kind of point across"

and this wasn't intended as your typical verse-chorus lyric, but a far more hefty piece of lyrical prose. Listen to Jethro Tull, Blackmores Night or Dying Fetus to see what I mean.


Well, saying that at least you get it doesn't matter if your trying to put something towards a listener. If you want a listener to draw his own conclusions then that's a different story and I completely respect that. If your doing this Jethro Tull style, then I'd really like to hear music to this then (use a flute too if possible hah). If you think you can really make it a song, then I'd love to hear what your hearing in your head.
Run!
-----------------------------------------------------------
Simply, the world was too small for a man of his ambition.
Quote by ifeastonbums
GuitarSymphony you are my hero!
#15
"Hey boy, you're looking a little...thin."

adore that line. very good job my friend.
Quote by Stop Messin'
Emo is an image, Hair Metal was a life style.
#16
old priest tired from late nights touching himself -
wanting to be paid for their unsolicited comments.

this whole song confused me.
Nevertheless
I LOVED IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
wow
wow
wow
WOW
WOW
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Quote by calvinthecanadi
I'm now an official Franzaholic.


Meep is a word.
Use it.