Singing about Politics

Kenmare, Ireland

Kenmare, small town. Tourist spot. Monday. Almost winter. Winter coming. No people. Well, not much.

Kitsch.

Singing, corner.

Drivers, cars, trucks, broom, noisy.

Little three watt amp to help the guitar along.

Ok, Zombie, Cranberries. Great. My version.

Sing, sing, sing.

Oohh, extra verse, my verse.

"Another loving human trained to kill dies needlessly
To fight rich mens wars
protect their toys
How are we being fooled?"

People coming, three of them, I feel them coming. Singing, louder. Give it all you've got. Prepare for anything.

"It's the same greedy man since this all began
In your heads in your heads they are fighting,
With democracy, nationalism, fascism, their media
In your heads in your heads the war is waging."

Closed eyes, moment of bliss.

What will come next. Sense male presence.

...

Three handfuls of coins, one after the other from three people in a group, and an interesting glance. Older guys.

"It's in your heads, in your heads, zombies, zombies..."