Pingpong! Theres the Belle for Sexaloitez!

Romance is dead
At least thats what William Butler said
I believe its alive
Within the homes of Berryfield Drive
Paralysed with heroin
Sun-drenched, red flagrant skin
Etching sonnets in our hearts
Where every bloom
Has died in the gloom
And the torture began
In the box-room
And I know my impulses well
Ive a right to bleed
But no right to feel
Gaudy girls bodies go by
And the sunset sides with their pale white hides
I had a dream that there was blood in the stream
And the heads of the parliament drowned; face down
Gucci suits and blank cheque books
Burst the banks of the Liffey
And we owned the city
We cried at processions and those violent parades
That opened up our young kids heads
Pearse was smiling at Joyce recoiling
By the granite of his grave, Oscar says:
Hold me tight I am a national light
Weve had our feelings shackled and gagged
Another summer lover or a teenage body bag
Romantic movements were just fits of despair
The pangs of sadness that fatten the air
I know mens impulses well
Their loves much better
In a loose-fit sweater
As gaudy girls bodies go by
The sunset sides with their pale white hides
I had a dream that there was blood in the stream
And the heads of the parliament drowned; face down
Gucci suits and blank cheque books
Burst the banks of the Liffey
And we owned the city
We cried at processions and those violent parades
That opened up our young kids heads
Pearse was smiling at Joyce recoiling
By the granite of his grave, Oscar prays [bad word] magazines and souls as black as sin
We watched the [bad word]  pouring in
Amid grime and crime
dead culture chimes
(I love your skin-tight jeans
I love the fact you have no dreams
It keeps the world alight for me)
The tenement tides
The blood of the Southside
We had no living
But we had our pride
Millions could scream
But [bad word] no one could see?
That life is a lonely, a lonely thing

Ireland sober is Ireland stiff. Lord help you, Maria,
full of grease, the load is with me!