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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCeQAvlCULo&ab_channel=U2-Topic

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We used to dance here,

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My aunt … with her pointed chin,

Blond, flaxen hair and

Elongated knuckles … her poignant,

Direct, angular fingers …

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She got married there;

We all danced here;

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I drank virgin punch

And laughed.

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I didn’t pay much attention, but

I remember this distant drone, this hollow sound:

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A pastor, trying to form his words in just that way -

Like a politician, like doomsday signs,

Medical brochures and voices of reason -

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So as to convince the obstruct and finite

Attitudes of the crowd.

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We used to dance here.

We used to dance, and

Dance, and

Laugh.

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And I think, if the pastor were there, now …

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Behind that podium …

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I don’t know …

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I think I’d probably blow him.

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