Alfie: [bad word] to a pretty pass, Alfie Byrne. 
Take a good look at yourself if you dare. 
Why would someone care for you when you care so little for yourself?

Man in the mirror staring back,
You’re as good as a total stranger.
Hair getting thin and chin got slack,
An anonymous little man.

Oscar Wilde had a biting wit, 
‘One should always be in love, that’s the reason one should never marry,’

And a poet’s heart…
‘O singer of Persephone! In the dim meadows desolate, dost thou remember Sicily?’

What is my wit? My poetry?
‘Change here for the Malmut Street Line! Have your fares ready. Next stop Nightingale.’
No. That’s not it, Alfie. Be honest. Look, it’s in the eyes. 
The dead eyes of a man who doesn’t know who he is.

Here in the mirror every night
Is the face of a man in prison. 
Oscar, you burned so brave and bright, 
But there’s some of us never can.
There’s some of us never can.

Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde,
You wouldn’t have noticed me either.

Oscar Wilde:
There’s no [bad word] but this, Alfie Byrne,
body without a soul; or a soul without a body.

Alfie:
Where is my golden love? 
Where but in musty plays?
Who is this man in the thickening body, 
Riding a bus to the end of his days?

Man in the mirror staring back,
You’re afraid of your own reflection
All that you want and dream and lack 
and there’s no-one but you to blame
Afraid of the world, afraid of myself 
And the love that dare not speak its name.

Oscar Wilde:
And that name is…

Alfie:
Robbie.