At the platform's end, where the crowd grew thin   and the light was dim on our shoes   where we sat there so tense,   not to touch though we meant to (I think)   There was no will, no spell   to breach the night and stop the talk   She tossed her hair and home did walk      Broken radio   Broken radio      On the day that I was born   there was no big flash and no great storm   but the man read the news in Dutch and warned,   "I'm gonna play 'Je T'aime' on my hunting horn."   In my cradle I was most impressed--   So this is what you call success      Black Seamus cried, "My shamrock has died   and my father's gone back to Peru."   The frost-damp town wore a fat-guts frown   and the DJ's played Brian Borù   The Sunday's sticky, home with rain   Sedition never entertained      Broken radio   Broken radio      Murder the past and all who sail in it   If the past is a wreck then all who sail in it   make me realize it's time to move on   but all the ships and the planes have gone   I'm in a savage place with a timid song   Mumbled words...[maybes?]