(no subject)
In search for something else entirely, I found that post-threesome U2 snippet I've been talking about.
Over the next four years, hundreds more 'blanket men' wee to join the protest.
(From Provos -- The IRA and Sinn Fein (aka Behind the Mask -- The IRA and Sinn Fein in the USA) by Peter Taylor.)
My hands are tied, my body bruised, you've got me with nothing to win and nothing left to lose.
(From U2 - With Or Without You)
(I just don't feel profound enough to write something like this! Something wit a lot of feeling, and depth and whatnot. Argh. Need to fix his if I even want to write the IRA fic. Which I had a name for at one point, but then promtly lost. Figures.)