For the paper thin shadows scarcely seen on the haunted castle grounds. A flitter of lady’s laughter caught up in the breeze. The one who sweeps her hands along the shamrocks just to show those who care she’s really there. For the tendrils of fiery red caught just out of the corner of one’s eye as they watch the sunset over the hills of Athenry. For Lady Birmingham. For the Lady of the Green.

9 tracks