Like a pioneer who can't find the frontier Like a soldier who can't find the front I wandered the weary land Until out of the night there came a sound
And in a place between the darkness And the break of dawn I found a ruined building Filled with a strange congregation
They were singing a forlorn hymn Their voices like a cracked orchestra Fascinated, I ventured inside In the half-light I scrutinized their faces Their features were worn thin like old coats Hung with the wounds of war Drawn, hollow, bereft of certainty
Suddenly a chorus of lamentations arose The air dense with complaint, anger, victimhood I felt their voices seeping into my head My own thought-voice raised in bitterness too
I could become one of Them! I turned towards the only bright light A shard of silver in the dim distance As if at the end of a tunnel And I ran
Running that tunnel took years. And what years! I witnessed the birth and funeral of Laddism I heard the Great Unspoken Saw cruelty masquerade as humour
Drank from a well in the wilderness Wrote my songs in foreign rooms Passed without seeing it The Unfound Door to the Undiscovered Country
Cleaned sickness from my wounds Lived through an unspeakable day Saw crowds along a highway And flowers on the roof of a car
Rode in the company of the Invisible Captain Abandoned my tobacco in dark peaceful Nine sixty-four Lucile Avenue Loved and was loved Gambled and lost Wept, fought Was able at least once to say:
"This place is God's fortress - and so am I!" Finally to emerge from the winter of my journey Into the grey light of a small damp dawn And so set forth this This set forth The testament of my wanderings In the weary landTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
