Does thou not love me anymore? br Within these sands of my existence, br br Time hath called you to me: br br You stomp. A golden bull in my arena - br A glittering condor in mine eye. br br What secrets: holds my sand! My child? br Lived the Ocean here before? br Sandy Babylon Shore: br br Some pontificating writer br Spit in mine eye and called me a Whore. br Sad, so sad! br br Does thou not love me anymore? br br 'An’ Hark' ‘A reply in double Babel spack’ br br Feach this whore br I don’t wanna her no more br gonna withdraw br race to my shore br I'm so sick of her. br br Aided by technology - br I’ll trap all the Sun, Wind and Water: br All I can hoard. Build me a New World br Without the veins found in you Whore. br br © Calac br br Feach. Gaeilge: Look.