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It's New Year, 1979, at Funderland in the RDS in Dublin. In the cold calculation of the January air, a young girl tries to talk
A queen in a palace, slumped on a throne,Surrounded by servants but all alone.Heavy with handshakes, bunches of flowers,jewels, crowns, grinning for hours.
I am a crocodile who lost my smile in the turbulent waters of the Nile.When I was very small, trapped inside my crocodile egg,
The space is a friend.I tell it what hurts.
I tell it why I'm not good.The space is a friend.I tell it the bother I'm in.It won't let me tell lies.