Monday 17 November 2008

Tambourine Slang

In hard and arid valleys, gold teeth and chains
Turn me loose on better plains, be well
My friend we know these paths too well
Against the pull of mermaids this rope strains
In my conch I ride, and nothing matters
I want to lie on hard grounds in warm rains
And tear my torch, my clothes in tatters
Never knowing how high I fell
But pushing up against the basements of buildings
And selling all my belongings, my longings
Are thrown into the dust til you can't tell
Rain and mud from flesh and blood
I'll bet you when you look into this well
You'll find that all your bombs were duds
You'll find that all your lies were good
And carved in iron, burnt in wood
You will retire to live less guiltily
And in your garden set your children free
The coward cooks will strike up the band
A crazed and cautious jungle jamboree
And marching slowly Eastward hand in hand
Following the sound of my unholy tambourine
They'll bring land to sea, and sea to land
Nobody will remember what has been
No one will mention anything we've seen
The sea will hear, the sky will understand

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