Angels Of The Bowling Green

The children of this cold coast
Are throwing themselves off cliffs
We know that they don't want to
But memory insists -
Memories of water
Fantasies of fins
So be off baby seal
Swim little fish...
Under mackerel sun, you're unnatural
O how, how do they breathe?
And whales hear whales
When love comes down there
But also from miles
Hear pain and there fear
Pinned by the water pins
Stuck by the ships
Mild the bay seems
Mild in the mist...
Under mackerel sun, you're unnatural
O how, how do they breathe?
On days when the bay breaks
And gales gut the shore
They come up from the water's edge
And they appear young no more -
White haired, widowed, and what they would have been
Children at eternal play
Angels of the bowling green