Long black cars
Up and over the bridge to the left
And thirty six more miles to go
Through a staggered patchwork of frozen fields
And battered farmhouses scoured by wind
An old black jacket and a bottle of gin.
Ghostly trees of Washington park
Haunting and still
Naked and empty, dark and gray
Branches twisting high and low
Thorny and black they sway and grow.
Seventeen minutes past the last bell toll
Echoes and ashes scatter in the wind
Slowly rolling long and black
Asphalt and metal pops and cracks.
I can’t feel much
Can’t feel anything at all
A beautiful empty silence about my feet
Passing me over the noiseless clouds
Wide open skies of discontented dreams.
Cold wet brick against my lips
I’ve walked here many times
Unencumbered where my thoughts can wander
Secret passages of smoke and mirrors
Rootless as tumbleweeds sideways blowing
Liquid black horizon of half hidden fears.
Cold enough to see my breath
Catching up fast and right behind you
Purposeful steps deliberate and unwavering
Forward this tired heart drives me
The taste of blood in my mouth
Not enough to ward off the chill
Nothing to prove and nothing to lose
And no time left to worry or kill.
The Church bell marks the degrees of rotation
But each look has stopped the same
Fully alive but for a moment much better
Than dead to feeling and alive and well.
I want to run until I forget
And sleep by the beating waves
Diving beneath the surface of green mystery
The colors of spring exploding around me
Rocks and water, earth and sand
Far away where the cattails rustle
Reedy wisps of memory abound
Sinking my fingers in the cool damp ground.
Walking alone at McDaniel farm
Through the towers of twisted trees
Secluded meadows so beautifully framed
By dense thickets of brown and gray.
Free association of linear progression
From moment to movement
Peaceful as the running waters
Eternal as the tides and moon
This rest I feel on every side
The peace the ages to merge and divide.
Scatter my ashes after dark
And bury my bones in pieces
Pour the gin after my blood
And mix it well into the mud.
At Bonaventure my body will rest
Under the ancient trees
But do not weep for one who’s lost
For another has paid my debts
Do not fear the wages of earth
For another has endured the cost.
I shall raise the red lantern
And press my heart to beat again
I shall wear the white robe
Walking home foot to ground
They will search and search
But their name will not be found
Yesterday I was a lion
Today I am a lamb
Tomorrow I shall be a secret
Until this fruit has ripened
Proved and tasted as planned.
Walking the last mile in the distance
My heart in my hands at your feet
I’ve only left what matters
All else lost on the way.
These human hands large and fumbling
Broken visage of alabaster stone
Inviolable the spirit and sacred the heart
Laid open in the end
And fully known from the start.
Long black cars
Up and over the bridge to the left
And thirty six more miles to go
Through a staggered patchwork of frozen fields
And battered farmhouses scoured by wind
An old black jacket and a bottle of gin.
Ghostly trees of Washington park
Haunting and still
Naked and empty, dark and gray
Branches twisting high and low
Thorny and black they sway and grow.
Seventeen minutes past the last bell toll
Echoes and ashes scatter in the wind
Slowly rolling long and black
Asphalt and metal pops and cracks.
I can’t feel much
Can’t feel anything at all
A beautiful empty silence about my feet
Passing me over the noiseless clouds
Wide open skies of discontented dreams.
Cold wet brick against my lips
I’ve walked here many times
Unencumbered where my thoughts can wander
Secret passages of smoke and mirrors
Rootless as tumbleweeds sideways blowing
Liquid black horizon of half hidden fears.
Cold enough to see my breath
Catching up fast and right behind you
Purposeful steps deliberate and unwavering
Forward this tired heart drives me
The taste of blood in my mouth
Not enough to ward off the chill
Nothing to prove and nothing to lose
And no time left to worry or kill.
The Church bell marks the degrees of rotation
But each look has stopped the same
Fully alive but for a moment much better
Than dead to feeling and alive and well.
I want to run until I forget
And sleep by the beating waves
Diving beneath the surface of green mystery
The colors of spring exploding around me
Rocks and water, earth and sand
Far away where the cattails rustle
Reedy wisps of memory abound
Sinking my fingers in the cool damp ground.
Walking alone at McDaniel farm
Through the towers of twisted trees
Secluded meadows so beautifully framed
By dense thickets of brown and gray.
Free association of linear progression
From moment to movement
Peaceful as the running waters
Eternal as the tides and moon
This rest I feel on every side
The peace the ages to merge and divide.
Scatter my ashes after dark
And bury my bones in pieces
Pour the gin after my blood
And mix it well into the mud.
At Bonaventure my body will rest
Under the ancient trees
But do not weep for one who’s lost
For another has paid my debts
Do not fear the wages of earth
For another has endured the cost.
I shall raise the red lantern
And press my heart to beat again
I shall wear the white robe
Walking home foot to ground
They will search and search
But their name will not be found
Yesterday I was a lion
Today I am a lamb
Tomorrow I shall be a secret
Until this fruit has ripened
Proved and tasted as planned.
Walking the last mile in the distance
My heart in my hands at your feet
I’ve only left what matters
All else lost on the way.
These human hands large and fumbling
Broken visage of alabaster stone
Inviolable the spirit and sacred the heart
Laid open in the end
And fully known from the start.
Up and over the bridge to the left
And thirty six more miles to go
Through a staggered patchwork of frozen fields
And battered farmhouses scoured by wind
An old black jacket and a bottle of gin.
Ghostly trees of Washington park
Haunting and still
Naked and empty, dark and gray
Branches twisting high and low
Thorny and black they sway and grow.
Seventeen minutes past the last bell toll
Echoes and ashes scatter in the wind
Slowly rolling long and black
Asphalt and metal pops and cracks.
I can’t feel much
Can’t feel anything at all
A beautiful empty silence about my feet
Passing me over the noiseless clouds
Wide open skies of discontented dreams.
Cold wet brick against my lips
I’ve walked here many times
Unencumbered where my thoughts can wander
Secret passages of smoke and mirrors
Rootless as tumbleweeds sideways blowing
Liquid black horizon of half hidden fears.
Cold enough to see my breath
Catching up fast and right behind you
Purposeful steps deliberate and unwavering
Forward this tired heart drives me
The taste of blood in my mouth
Not enough to ward off the chill
Nothing to prove and nothing to lose
And no time left to worry or kill.
The Church bell marks the degrees of rotation
But each look has stopped the same
Fully alive but for a moment much better
Than dead to feeling and alive and well.
I want to run until I forget
And sleep by the beating waves
Diving beneath the surface of green mystery
The colors of spring exploding around me
Rocks and water, earth and sand
Far away where the cattails rustle
Reedy wisps of memory abound
Sinking my fingers in the cool damp ground.
Walking alone at McDaniel farm
Through the towers of twisted trees
Secluded meadows so beautifully framed
By dense thickets of brown and gray.
Free association of linear progression
From moment to movement
Peaceful as the running waters
Eternal as the tides and moon
This rest I feel on every side
The peace the ages to merge and divide.
Scatter my ashes after dark
And bury my bones in pieces
Pour the gin after my blood
And mix it well into the mud.
At Bonaventure my body will rest
Under the ancient trees
But do not weep for one who’s lost
For another has paid my debts
Do not fear the wages of earth
For another has endured the cost.
I shall raise the red lantern
And press my heart to beat again
I shall wear the white robe
Walking home foot to ground
They will search and search
But their name will not be found
Yesterday I was a lion
Today I am a lamb
Tomorrow I shall be a secret
Until this fruit has ripened
Proved and tasted as planned.
Walking the last mile in the distance
My heart in my hands at your feet
I’ve only left what matters
All else lost on the way.
These human hands large and fumbling
Broken visage of alabaster stone
Inviolable the spirit and sacred the heart
Laid open in the end
And fully known from the start.
Long black cars
Up and over the bridge to the left
And thirty six more miles to go
Through a staggered patchwork of frozen fields
And battered farmhouses scoured by wind
An old black jacket and a bottle of gin.
Ghostly trees of Washington park
Haunting and still
Naked and empty, dark and gray
Branches twisting high and low
Thorny and black they sway and grow.
Seventeen minutes past the last bell toll
Echoes and ashes scatter in the wind
Slowly rolling long and black
Asphalt and metal pops and cracks.
I can’t feel much
Can’t feel anything at all
A beautiful empty silence about my feet
Passing me over the noiseless clouds
Wide open skies of discontented dreams.
Cold wet brick against my lips
I’ve walked here many times
Unencumbered where my thoughts can wander
Secret passages of smoke and mirrors
Rootless as tumbleweeds sideways blowing
Liquid black horizon of half hidden fears.
Cold enough to see my breath
Catching up fast and right behind you
Purposeful steps deliberate and unwavering
Forward this tired heart drives me
The taste of blood in my mouth
Not enough to ward off the chill
Nothing to prove and nothing to lose
And no time left to worry or kill.
The Church bell marks the degrees of rotation
But each look has stopped the same
Fully alive but for a moment much better
Than dead to feeling and alive and well.
I want to run until I forget
And sleep by the beating waves
Diving beneath the surface of green mystery
The colors of spring exploding around me
Rocks and water, earth and sand
Far away where the cattails rustle
Reedy wisps of memory abound
Sinking my fingers in the cool damp ground.
Walking alone at McDaniel farm
Through the towers of twisted trees
Secluded meadows so beautifully framed
By dense thickets of brown and gray.
Free association of linear progression
From moment to movement
Peaceful as the running waters
Eternal as the tides and moon
This rest I feel on every side
The peace the ages to merge and divide.
Scatter my ashes after dark
And bury my bones in pieces
Pour the gin after my blood
And mix it well into the mud.
At Bonaventure my body will rest
Under the ancient trees
But do not weep for one who’s lost
For another has paid my debts
Do not fear the wages of earth
For another has endured the cost.
I shall raise the red lantern
And press my heart to beat again
I shall wear the white robe
Walking home foot to ground
They will search and search
But their name will not be found
Yesterday I was a lion
Today I am a lamb
Tomorrow I shall be a secret
Until this fruit has ripened
Proved and tasted as planned.
Walking the last mile in the distance
My heart in my hands at your feet
I’ve only left what matters
All else lost on the way.
These human hands large and fumbling
Broken visage of alabaster stone
Inviolable the spirit and sacred the heart
Laid open in the end
And fully known from the start.
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