these days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face and when you do you'll know how it was meant to be see the signs and know their meaning

you'll know it's true, that you are blessed and lucky it's true, that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you

I've walked these streets in the mad house asylum they can be where a wild eyed misfit prophet on a traffic island stopped and he raved of saving me

these are days you'll remember

I cannot think we are useless or Usen would not have created us. He created all tribes of men and certainly had a righteous purpose in creating each.

He is dead already who doth not feel Life is worth living still.

Is there life before death? That's chalked up In Ballymurphy. Competence with pain, Coherent miseries, a bite and a sup, We hug our little destiny again.