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Cockburn Bruce 75 Joy Will Find A Way Lament For The Last Days (5:24) the crescent moon is rising slow swiftly blades in ice do grow on the branches star-bleached snow waits while time is passing outside the door the dancer whirls chiming bells and shining curls flying footsteps in the snow rhyme the rhythm of ruin beside the wall the beggars call "Man have mercy on us all" the night-bound choir inside chants on -- a hymn to brick and pistols you can stumble, you can fall or you can make the nations crawl but when death comes in to call he don't care about it. oh, Satan take thy cup away for i'll not drink your wine today i'll reach for the chalice of light that stands on Jesus' table. (23/II/75) |
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