They’ll hate you if you’re pretty
They’ll hate you if you’re not.
They’ll judge you for what you lack,
And they’ll judge you for what you’ve got.
Always on their phones,
Becoming just another clone.
Quick to judge one another,
But really wanna be like each other
Standing at corners trying to hide the disorders,
Oppressed on them by society.
Getting to them mentally,
This is our REALITY.
Dion, Amy and Sarah
It started off small, summer weekend nights.
The text came in and the girl debated whether to reply.
A subtle little message and all he said was “hi”.
She texted him back and they talked all through the night.
The next weekend they went out,
She hoped he didn’t only want to f*** about,
But he made her feel special.
The girls had given her the heads-up,
Said all he wanted was a hook-up,
But he made her feel special.
A few weeks in and he had a different attitude,
Like the only time he cared was
When she stood in front of him nude.
“Send pictures” the boy typed “I won’t screenshot”
While the boy continued trying to persuade,
He failed to realise the girl he loved was beginning to degrade.
But the girl was obsessed, lost all her self-interest,
Therefore, she followed through with his low, shallow request.
Posing in her mirror,
She wondered if people would forgive her for what she was doing.
Within minutes of her chewing her lip, waiting for a reply,
A notification came in from the young boy.
Just as the girls had guessed,
He was simply another f***boy pest.
As he took that screenshot,
She physically felt the clean shot
Aimed straight at her heart, her head and her dignity.
But then again, boys will be boys
And girls will continue to suffer miserably.
It all happened seven years ago
When Grandad’s brain slowly died
His body got weaker
His family cried
Eventually all he seemed to do was forget
His loved ones all gathered
In clouds of regret
Bedridden, unable to move, eat or drink.
Unable to function, unable to think.
Grandad’s life isn’t just over
Well not just quite yet
Its burning out slowly
Like an old cigarette
Grandad’s eyes still see
His ears do hear
He is still in there somewhere
So let that be clear
His memory may fade
His walk may slow
He might be lost in his thinking
But he’s still got his glow.
My generation is evolving too fast,
A generation of backstabbers stuck in the past,
My generation is acting as if they don’t care
About the person beside them who breathes the same air
People are cheating on their two-week relationships
This generation really needs some emotional censorship.
Where leaders are dealers in fear and in danger
To innocent minds and untrustworthy strangers
Searching the gaff for some money,
You know the usual I`m always hungry,
It’s my addiction,
But it’s cheaper then sniffing.
Knowing in the long run it’s not good,
That doesn’t stop me,
It makes me feel happier than anyone ever could.
I live off that high,
It’s some buzz,
I need my daily fix,
To keep me in top nic.
Even when it smells funky,
Nothing wrong with a chicken wing junkie.
Saoirse Talbot, Josephine O`Connor, and Jodie Carroll
They are walking out in front of cars and trains,
The drink and the drugs are wrecking their brains
They are falling on the ground and busting open heads,
Waking up in the cold with shop fronts for beds
They are fighting like apes outside pubs and chippers,
Dressed to the nines like out of work strippers
Getting sick in the gutters all over the place,
The mad ones and hard nuts right in your face
Getting chased by the shades across the bare field
They are running and falling into riot gear shields.
I dream of the day when food is god,
And the lakes are filled with corn on the cob.
When the clouds are as pink as candyfloss.
And the sun shines down like lemon drops.
I’ve always wanted to lick a gummy tree,
And take a sup of the Fanta sea.
But this is just my dream.
Imagine being paid by chocolate coins,
And sweet tasting money to combine.
Life would be good,
It really would.
Caoimhe Burke, Kirsty Anderson and Kelsey Boyne
Life in Dublin for a Homeless Man.
Homeless people on every corner of town.
Smoking, drinking, begging.
Finishing off their amber leaf
Saying this smoke will be my last,
People walking by judging,
But not knowing their past.
Under the shelter in the alleyway.
Freezing, shaking, bodies aching.
Starving for a sandwich, even if it’s plain,
Searching for a few cents around the drain.
Strolling down the lane felling a sharp pain.
Hurting, burning, stomachs turning.
Head hits the ground,
Woman walks past and takes his last pound,
He knew this was the end as he seen blood flowing from his head
And realized the woman was his ex-girlfriend.
Caoimhe McCarney and Emily Lacey
This is where the young one lives,
In the flats screaming over the balcony about the lad she fancies.
With her fake ID she runs down to Clancys
To buy a few cans and a bottle of cider.
Her generation is wasted and there is no one to save her.
The streets are cold and there is nowhere to hide her.
Her mammy sells apples, 2 for a fiver,
But they lost the roof over their head because her daddy was a liar.
Her generation is wasted and there is no one to save her.
She goes out on a Saturday night,
Dealing drugs and sniffing a line of white.
Her coat smells of whisky and wine
And her smoke fills the cold air of the night.
She is wasted and there is no on to save her.
Nicole Brady and Nicole Murphy
There are teenagers underage drinking and smoking and no one puts a stop to it.
No one stops to think the effects kids are going through.
Some kids have an alcohol problem at the age of 15/16.
It’s a horrible habit,
But most kids have this problem because it runs in their families
Or hanging around with the wrong crowd of people.
In my opinion, as a teen myself,
I think teens need help or someone to talk to
Instead of going behind their backs smoking and doing drugs.
Imagine, just imagine, your child could be doing all this stuff
Behind your back, saying that they are in a friend’s house,
When really they could be out doing all sorts of things with the wrong people.
Although I can’t put a stop to this
But I want to get my message across to help my generation out
And maybe stop teens from what they’re doing and make the right choice.
Tia Dowling and Kirsty Mullen
There’s three sides to a triangle,
The love, the hate, the bant.
He always gets into a tangle
And he’s always on a rant.
He loves his teapot biscuit,
It’s really quite sadistic.
He’s a family man,
He didn’t believe our plan,
To come down to visit,
But we already had our ticket.
He’s insecure, but we like his big lips,
And his cute little hips.
He gets the wrong end of the stick,
Because he is quite a dick.
He’s brain-dead in the silly student square,
We wish he would care.
He’s some unit,
I wonder if he likes tuna.
At the end of the day,
He wants us away,
But in his heart he wants one to stay.
We miss his bant,
Even though he’s a c***.
We still love you Triangle.
Shauna Vickers and Naoise Kane
How I Spend Saturdays
Remember Us is where I go
Lots of friends go there I know
On Saturday I get dressed down
And head off down towards Swords town
Happy, happy, happy is how I feel
Because we might be going out for a meal.
I’ll meet my friends there
We could be going anywhere.
Lots to do there,
Nowhere can compare.
Our tribe is not just one generation of a creation
Both good and bad, full of happy and sad.
We know that change can come too fast,
Seems to scrub it all out, but it’s an absolute blast.
Full of drink, drugs and the internet bug
It seems all people care about is the beer in their mugs.
Queen of the sesh, showing too much flesh
Looking to fly, always keeping it fresh.
Sarah Byrne and Sarah Clack
Drinking vodka and frostiest taken shot after shots,
Feeling sicker on bleach liquor,
Sitting in the bathroom, regretting everything that I took.
Spending an hour on the floor bending over throwing up.
When he hears I’m in a state, I’ll have to try explain,
He’s not like all them other boys he likes to make sure that I’m fine.
There’s just one thing that’s getting in the way,
When we go out to bed, you’re just not good,
It’s such a shame
We have an obsession with the session
That leads to session depression.
Then I say to myself,
If you think you’ve got depression,
Wait until we get in the session,
I made a few dollars, I bought a few bottles.
No headaches, it’s just pre-drinks and bottles.
Pulled too many all-nighters.
Friday night out with my mates,
Then this guy started to pick a fight,
So he got a bottle across his face.
I’m movin’ on, groovin’ on and I’m movin’
I came to party on my own
Don’t need nobody in my zone
We get down to the beat and lose control
Cause all my friends are wasted
And I hate this club cause I drank too much
Chloe Sattell and Gillian Ward
Song for the Heart
It is simple, but so complicated
You don’t need more than some musical notes
For your soul.
Yeah. It is simple. But so complicated.
It is like a game,
But becomes serious when it is you and your heart
She need some medicine
Give her medicine, not drugs
Pick a song. Pick a beautiful song.
She will be fine.
Take you headphones.
You’ll be okay.