Blowing bubbles on the Lisburn Road Well I was young before I was old
In a place they said was privileged Watching the boats go up and down I was attached and detached from my terrible town
Lived in a house on Whitebeam Road The summers came as they go I spend my life carrying granite stone
My mother, father, brother, three Another one and that made me I cut my shin and looked up high Something deep told me that I
I grew up in the South Seas Now it's become a part of me