B E F O R IRE LAND
ELLIOT BOHLEN TEXT BY SYDNEY MCMAHON
BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFO
A house in Ireland is promised to you, The window is curtained in tulle and there are no trumpets in the streets, Everyone has hands there and if you look at them you will know all the things the hands have done.
Hands cast shadows on walls and the shadows say: you can have it soon.
There’s a longing like looking through stained glass which is pretty to feel, There’s loss like hollowed out hills that sniff you out younger than you were expecting. When you use up all the air in one place you’ll ease into another and You can listen to what cicadas are saying there too, The cicadas will say: you can have it soon. You will turn into your mother and then in unison you will say: it is soon. You will bite into bitter berries and again: soon.
T h e r e’s a w a i t i n g l i k e d o g s d o a f t e r a divorce,
And remembering is breathing out until somebody starts snoring in the audience,
There’s sitting on the shore of a lake with your sister
and eating grapes and feeling happiness.
There’s a feeling that happens all at once
and it is arriving at a house in Ireland that is promised to you.
Before Ireland A house in Ireland is promised to you, The window is curtained in tulle and there are no trumpets in the streets, Everyone has hands there and if you look at them you will know all the things the hands have done. Hands cast shadows on walls and the shadows say: you can have it soon. There’s a longing like looking through stained glass which is pretty to feel, There’s loss like hollowed out hills that sniff you out younger than you were expecting. When you use up all the air in one place you’ll ease into another and You can listen to what cicadas are saying there too, The cicadas will say: you can have it soon. You will turn into your mother and then in unison you will say: it is soon. You will bite into bitter berries and again: soon. There’s a waiting like dogs do after a divorce, And remembering is breathing out until somebody starts snoring in the audience, There’s sitting on the shore of a lake with your sister and eating grapes and feeling happiness.
Sydney McMahon
B
BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IIRE-
BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE I-
BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRE-
BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE IRELAND BEFORE I-