THE DAY GOD DIED ON HOLY CROSS HILL

I only remember now because I writ it down

It was nineteen seventy or seventy-one

I climbed the steps like a good Christian boy

Armed with a missal and all of my joy.

Gunfire burst behind me on the Crumlin Road

For god and ulster, the sky was told.

I looked up to the great doors threw my missal away

And ran home crying, I cried all the way

To this day, I still can’t fathom why he done that

Three people lay dead at his feet, flat.

All for green and orange on holy cross hill.

I can’t live with that god within my shoes

That day you burst my bubble, gave me the blues.

Now I give it back to you, in bleeding words

God, you are a bastard who lives dies by the sword.

I want nothing to do with you, ill follow the way

The way is true and tender, beauty is a beautiful day.

Death is part of life I know but this was for your cause

You have torn us all to shreds for this peaceful pause.

The English and the Irish are at each other’s throats

When will we swallow the truth, and say that no one won.

I witnessed you again along the narrow waters

Hate was in your heart, they cut down our brothers.

Hate was killing hate, all in your name

And no one was there, no one was to blame.

get on with the living without your dying son

No one died for my sins, I’ll die for my own.

I’ll take it on the chin and make this my home

So, fuck off back to god knows where and leave me alone.