Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

The Gathering Song Lyrics

The White Bird (Heumann)

there's somewhere that I have been meaning to revisit
in and among all, even as its true nature is hid
here, in the gloaming and black night
here, in the dawn and the golding bright

there is a design with the larger in the smaller
I found it in time and the lethargy of matter
sing, as would a white bird of mine
here, in this hall of a thousand rooms

I've seen it at night tessellating and unfolding
sheer gossamer threads, delicate and sacred shimmering
and if you reached for it, it would shatter
as things that you'd hold quickly fade away

there's something that's grown, spreading underneath through each inside
go see for your own, more and more the air is rarefied
now that the spires are crumbling down
and new holes appear where there once were none

if you should become separated from the restless herd
and you're hearing that hum, know that to this place you may return
wandering alone in a city of towers
one with the leaves and mycelia

When Delivery Comes (Heumann, Wilson)

there's a hollow on the right
might be wise taking cover for a while
won't be long until it's night
and some may not make another mile

we made talk and walked a road
made the climb up and over angel's crest
left dsaster down below
and all the unfailing and the good

by night's falling, by a fire
lines are drawn and divided in the dark
who stands watch and who retires
and who gets to break the silence

well my vote's as good as yours
and it don't matter who you were before
of all things, just two endure
high heaven and the howling wind

All the birds took flight at once
just before the thunder roared in
sprung the sirens and alarms
and walls and bridges fell
Oh the fault was opened up
and let in a surging ocean
Oh and all the western parts
were lost below

were they left there, are they still?
well it's something to ponder in the pines
there's no truth that can be spillled
no reason that can be divined

there's a black crow on a line
looking down at the basin far below
but I've left that life behind
to wander among the vertigo

when delivery comes
I'll be waiting for it
on the high ground, in the sun
there underneath the billowing

Destroying to Save (Heumann, Wilson)

there's a righteous band that's marching
they're beating on drums, and even speak in tounges
they're passing plates around

clothed in garments of the sun
bringing the weight of everything to bear
they're calling everyone

out to comb the fields for stones
eyes casting for harlots and for heretics,
heels worn down from the road

onstage rocking back and forth
the choir's rattling swords, they stomp and shake the boards
the rest, they sing along

Cheering for a firefight, praying for the end
praisers of oblivion go round a bend
not to be a downer here, but I have my doubts
see here a tide and river turned about

you, who sought the water's purity
drank deep as the voices of the virtuous rang out, aloft in air

come, and I'll take you outside
walk with me to out beyond the barriers of what is said and known

bones and lodestones might be found
on ground that's not sown nor plowed, but opened up
like eyes to sight and sound

All around, through all the towns, word spread of a fire
a blaze had brought the building down, but who conspired
right out in the daylight, none saw him there
the ashen rider on a shadow mare

Orbits bend and ages end, soon may come a time
when nothing that remains of this is recognized
people don't you wait around, won't be no train
best go inside before it starts to rain

Highwayman (Jimmy Webb)
not written here.

Waxing Crescents (Heumann)

what lens is offering to give blurred things clarity?
what influnce is this, that compels me to you?

night was thick, and jasmine deep
by a stream that was all right
there was talk in ancient tones
silver, sparkling, and new

these lines go on for miles
in the distance, they converge
but you'll hear none of this
so I keep it aside

when your secret was exposed
smooth and shorn of adornment
gripping fingers pulling close
crescent hoofprints in snow

one more imagined slight
and I'm going internal
gonna make it there tonight
to the crest of the hill

The Empty Shell (Heumann)

this place is curved and copper-tinged
I'm aquamarine, measured in fathoms
he has no tounge to taste the brine
because he's an empty shell

she holds on to his arm and leans
he sips his drink and says the right thing
sometimes a fuzzy plan succeeds
hatched out of an empty shell

it's like that swindle on the streets
the one that everybody loses
the thimblerigger hides the pea
they're betting on empty shells

the vacuous and the esteemed
walk hand in hand into the distance
the battlefields and beaches gleam
all covered in empty shells

Song of the Nile (Heumann, Wilson)

wandering down in Egypt
dressed in beggar's clothes
I lost my direction
in a lotus grove

well I must have been distracted
to forget about the pearl
but it's strange how time unravels
in the navel of the world

I put on a mantle
stars were shining through
there in my reflection,
a kingdom split in two

well the fruit it was inviolate
and was hanging from the bough
and the sepent there was sleeping
so I took it as allowed

blinded by a prism
seen in second sight
caught between the breastbone
by a lance of light

well I stopped because a woman
was lying in the road
it was then that I remembered
which way I was supposed to go