At the platform's end, where the crowd grew thin And the light was dim on our shoes Where we sat there so tense, Not to touch though we meant to (i think) There was no will, no spell To breach the night and stop the talk She tossed her hair and home did walk Broken radio Broken radio On the day that i was born There was no big flash and no great storm But the man read the news in dutch and warned, "i'm gonna play 'je t'aime' on my hunting horn." In my cradle i was most impressed-- So this is what you call success Black seamus cried, "my shamrock has died And my father's gone back to peru." The frost-damp town wore a fat-guts frown And the dj's played brian bor The sunday's sticky, home with rain Sedition never entertained Broken radio Broken radio Murder the past and all who sail in it If the past is a wreck then all who sail in it Make me realize it's time to move on But all the ships and the planes have gone I'm in a savage place with a timid song Mumbled words...[maybes?]