Bob Dawson, the patient:
I can’t make the hills
The system is shot
I’m living on pills
For which I thank God.
I followed the course
From chaos to art
Desire the horse
Depression the cart
My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn’t write
What the night penciled in.
I know she is coming
I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the book
Ursula Schulz, the care-giver:
Typical car ride with Ursula:
She will take you far into the country and the forests.
But if someone has been too isolated too long, she will take them to town.
In this case, the old white-haired guy at the end, walking with spirit where the children are running.
sometimes I don’t know
where this dirty road is taking me
sometimes I don’t know the reason why
I guess I’ll keep on gambling
Lots of booze and lots of rambling
It’s easier than just waiting around waiting to die
I got me a friend at last
He don’t steal or cheat or lie
and Mi Gitana:
Leonard Cohen, the Prophet:
If it be thy will, with spoken introduction:
If it be Your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before....
If it be your will
to make us well
and draw us near
Oh, bind us tight
all your children here
in our rags of light
No comments:
Post a Comment