Bartholomew in Blue, holding the knife, thinking of you, thinking of me, down,close to the sea, we sailed and sailed out to the place where the sunset meets the horizon and then looked down and saw reflections of tired faces, and then sailed back and sat on the quay, and had bare feet and ate mackerel for tea.. teach um to fish and run with the tide and clamber over rocks and collect winkles and be all puffed out and tell them about anguish.Bartholomew in blue, a deep voice, holding the knife, making me nervous, lavish apostle, on the beach, in the sand, by the ghosts of dancing tentacles, I keep finding the evidence of vengeance, we sailed and sailed, far far away, looking back to see you looking back at us in our little dinghy looking back at you, the wind died and left us like prisoners on the milky sea,I don't have serous concerns,its not really me, just a memory.