lirik lagu stephen james smith - talk to me
[verse 1: stephen james smith]
dublin, where sarcasm comes cheap and shelter costs peace
where the chasm between the haves and the nots keeps getting deep
a city that sells moore street while whistling rebel songs
where wildflowers grow through concrete
and spring brings the dance of the cherry blossom
a city where we say “ah sure look” when we mean “help.”
a city of grá and “go f~ck yourself.”
tell us of the children of lir, the gardens of remembrance
tell us — was it for this? just so we’re clear!
what of the promises we remember and the future we refuse to forget?
tell us about splitting~the~g and gamifying regret
tell us your woes. how it all goes — the scéal, the craic, the story bud
tell us you can smell the scent of strawberry vapes, see north~facing teens?
tell us about the hoods and the youth, the riots, the looting
the kids curled up in hotel rooms, phones lighting their truth
learning too young that dreams are just for the lucky few
tell us where the path turns sharp, or if we’ve circled back
hibernica ivy claws through dereliction, past boarded flats
while vultures perch on tax breaks, volunteers sweep shattered glass
in mirrored streets, we blink and pass ourselves like strangers
tell us the heron still fishes on the tolka’s banks
someday a metro. for now, more monto
syphilitic snouts, septums scorched beneath last night’s snow
tell us about being known to the gardaí, unpaid licence fees
how rté broadcasts morals somewhere between the ads
tell us about e~scooters and hawking horse~drawn carriages
tell us we’re dying of nostalgia, have bubbles instead of bread
a fire in a city full of fog
still the auld triangle tolls under the luas bell, sounds we know well
powermongers write history, the sufferers sing the song
tell us we’re wrong
go on
i dare ya!
[chorus: stephen james smith & niamh bury]
tell us—will you put the kettle on and talk to me
tell us about love
tell us you can forgive
tell us about home
a story passed across the steam
undercurrents still flowing through our city
the poddle, the swan, the bradogue and oxmantown stream
undercurrents still flowing through the heart of our city
dublin, you are more than this
come and talk to me
[verse 2: stephen james smith]
the barstaff call — “have you no homes to go to?”
the bedsit gone boutique. the squat scrubbed for tech elites
the cashless café, the last hurrah—a hip~pip hooray
the five lamps blinks an s.o.s. in led
dot dot dot — we’re not done yet
tell us — where are the public lavatories?
and why are tds p~ssing themselves laughing at us?
“co~living” is five strangers and one air fryer
tell us why gary gannon had to growl, “gobsh~te.”
there are dog whistles on the far right
while the left rides in on a high mule
all this is beyond cruel
do you remember the man~made meme for saying “and of course celtic”?
it’s academic, maybe — but how many mined him for cl!ckbait?
he never asked to be our mirror
“it’s actually a very good point.”
tell us about duty of care
tell us the boys are back in town
about titular characters — molly malone
groped and ghosted for good luck by guilty groups
and don’t touch my hair — emma d’s thread
is not for mockery but to understand history
tell us the stories of 1916
on a stroll with lorcan where three castles still burn
jane casey is the cure for our doom~scroll
let memory hold the line firm
tell us about potholes, port tunnels
waving your mickey in dublin portals
tell us about backbenchers, backhanders, backroom deals
the chambers’ sh~te~speaking rights
dunnes stores workers and the oranges of apartheid
the right to stand or sit again — with mothers against gazan genocide
before being strip~searched
[chorus: stephen james smith & niamh bury]
tell us—will you put the kettle on and talk to me
tell us about love
tell us you can forgive
tell us about home
a story passed across the steam
undercurrents still flowing through our city
the poddle, the swan, the bradogue and oxmantown stream
undercurrents still flowing through the heart of our city
dublin, you are more than this
come and talk to me
[verse 3: stephen james smith]
sinéad said, “fight the real enemy.” do you know what she means?
tell us to reshape this place like mainie jellett’s dreams—
colours, contours, hypnotic harmony
tell us you hear nelly weldon singing in the teachers club for an góilín
heard gaelic vowels vibrating on harcourt street to a rapscallion’s belfast beat
quench your longing for gaeilge on duolingo but don’t speak a word
tell us we’re building on sand, haven’t you heard?
we sang “up the flats,” though mould and mildew
held fast to dark humour
in solidarity with tony gregory, now is the hour
on your marks. get set. go
let progress move like adeleke—swift, sure, a fearless relay
we’ve limped through decades of delay
now we race the truth. catch up
or disappear behind your own disgrace
from the sky the satellites watch us dance
from the sky the rain hammers the tents
from the sky pigeons sh~t on progress
did you scan the sky for a sign to get a 404 from the cosmos?
but from the starry plough—we haven’t given up on a cosmic force
we are what we’ve always been—of stars, of earth, of kin
tell us of helga’s sh~lls, and luftwaffe bombs we weren’t meant to bear
meant for liverpool—but fire found us unaware
tell us how can i protect you in this crazy world?
between shotguns and hope~starved of spice bags
ganglands, turf wars
the virgin at granard speaks
tell us—no, we haven’t peaked—between the c~n~ls and from river to sea
extend empathy beyond a bloodstream flow
the pendulum always swings
not ruins, not relics, but roots that persist
we tell you, dublin—you are more than this!
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