living at the edge of the realm seems quite tempting to me, far from the concrete and the sodium light and next to the emerald sea. teacher's out of the room and the cat's away for a while and it's drink, drink to get drunk time: wash out the culture and bring on the style. there's another country i've heard of long ago; so dear to them that love her; most great to them that know. living at the edge of the realm, doing much more as you please. watching the sunset over mallory square and supping on the juice of the keys. and there's always that nagging sense that you're not just miles from home 'cos it might as well be light years, wrapped up in glitter and chilled to the bone. so strange that i'm tempted to go to the edge; so strange, yet like the prodigal i go. and i'd have fallen had the world been flat, or did your hand hold on and keep me from the fall. chosing to be outside the fold from kerry to kirkwall skies. out on the edge, trading love and the hearth, for the thrill and surprise. yet i know another country, that's mapped within, and it's always time to return there, no matter where i've been.
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