venerdì 6 novembre 2009

The Ol'Fisheman says

When you’re destined for dawn in your famous blue sweater, shine a light our way won’t you? You search for it between verses and ignore our hard histories. Are you that selfish? Can you be that vain, even without a name? You’ll take the fall you say, holding my hand. With arrows in the sky under autumn clouds the stake in one hand, and satchel full of hearts in the other. What shines down on a voice echoing through the pews makes men weep in some districts. An unavailable memory, a youth, a salvation. No truth in these words, no truth in these words. I don’t believe in myself, how can I believe what I say? A youth for the masses, he’s come for you. And as her voice fades from you, you slip down a shallow swale under that oak tree with a heart-shaped scar. You’ll carry them out to sea and let the waves take them away. They’ll take them away. But how can you forget. The echo won’t die. Will you forget? A canyon of saints. Let them divide. While UFOs have their ballet beyond the treetops a campfire grasps for oxygen…and lost embers rejoice like drunks into the night. Let’s drink our wine and think of him. We’ll drink our wine until the end. And so it goes.


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