Rushing past works of art you find they're dust
on what might stop you in your tracks.
Accelerando, eat your dust!
Still you insist you do not move.

So, you portray yourself as a statue?
Thats not fair- you are portrayed thus.
But where is the photograph to be found
that pins a spirit under glass?

Every town in Ireland has its own tunes,
its property- manically shared!
You're an artist as well as anyone
new fingers cradling these old notes.