On leaving you, and my rock

I have to say it’s taken me this long

To song a sing-a-long like this.

And just the thought of the tears

When you’re near to my lonely being,

And I finally buck up the Irish courage inside 

To tell you all my feelings,

However they hide,

Has made – all these years – me incapable of truth.

When I met you I loved you for the

Good that you are; for the cruelty

You’d suffered at the hands of your ma.

But the cruelty and pain which has remained all your life

Now touches me so bad

I just cannot contemplate more 

suffering with you,

As you eternally and infinitely –

And under the control of dead parent’s

Gaze – do impose upon me, and

Define me, and kill me …

… and stuff that only does away 

with life!

So when I tell you I’m leaving you,

And that day is now soon,

Please don’t make it so hard

That I would prefer to avoid the 

Face-to-face encounter

By simply doing away with my

Self and my heart and my soul

And my roll …

… I would prefer in the light

Of simple idea 

Not to face that awful reality:

You never were my actuality.

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