THE DEATH OF IDENTITY
I walk down Grafton Street to the soundtrack
Of white boys singing rich man blues
Teachers preach recited speels through Irish
But explain through the Queen’s toungue
Priests teach the word their celibate God
Lustful crimes fresh on their hands
Strangers psycoanalise and instigate
My problems to which they could not relate
And to add insult to injury
We all scorn our native toungue, and dying culture.