Hard to be a flynn

When I first listened to you you were overplayed and worn
In a room I thought so beautiful it justified my scorn
And I mean I barely heard you as I stared about as well
And wondered if I’d ever yet be touched by any hell

It took Christmas and tinniness
It took being alone, still
That drive to claim a corner -
You constituted firmly lobes from someone else’s mind
You colonised your sceptic with a lacing of unpride
You made him wonder if he’d heard his hell

And sure I overplayed in turn and made distinctions then
And some died for much longer and some got better when
They’d been born a wee bit stunted but they geared themselves up well
So all in all I got convinced you sang me from your hell

I saw you once by accident yellowly in your voice
And I thought you might yourself be hell by choice

I got in pride and stumbling and found I irked again
I couldn’t even take a bare refrain

I met aspirant seraphs who warned you were going down
And I met all further loving with a screeching kind of frown
I thought you’d bought plots in heaven and could be none of mine
But I heard the current while I blanked the shine

It took all the dim faces
It took the bench’s spaces
I saw her staring sharp devoted fear,
And the virtues joying at last sealing swell
Flynn you’re mine on demand
Flynn you’re mine by free will
We’ll wander hand in hand then into hell.