Sunset is an angel weeping Holding out a bloody sword No matter how I squint I cannot Make out what it’s pointing toward Sometimes you feel like you’ve lived too long Days drip slowly on the page You catch yourself Pacing the cage
I’ve proven who I am so many times The magnetic strip’s worn thin And each time I was someone else And every one was taken in Hours chatter in high places Stir up eddies in the dust of rage Set me to pacing the cage
I never knew what you all wanted So I gave you everything All that I could pillage All the spells that I could sing It’s as if the thing were written In the constitution of the age Sooner or later you’ll wind up Pacing the cage
Sometimes the best map will not guide you You can’t see what’s round the bend Sometimes the road leads through dark places Sometimes the darkness is your friend Today these eyes scan bleached-out land For the coming of the outbound stage Pacing the cage –B. Cockburn
Everybody’s wonderin’ what and where they all came from Everybody’s worryin’ ’bout where they’re gonna go When the whole thing’s done But no one knows for certain And so it’s all the same to me I think I’ll just let the mystery be
Some say once you’re gone you’re gone forever And some say you’re gonna come back Some say you rest in the arms of the Savior If in sinful ways you lack
Some say that they’re comin’ back in a garden Bunch of carrots and little sweet peas I think I’ll just let the mystery be
Everybody’s wonderin’ what and where they they all came from Everybody’s worryin’ ’bout where they’re gonna go When the whole thing’s done But no one knows for certain And so it’s all the same to me I think I’ll just let the mystery be
Some say they’re goin’ to a place called Glory And I ain’t saying it ain’t a fact But I’ve heard that I’m on the road to purgatory And I don’t like the sound of that I believe in love and I live my life accordingly But I choose to let the mystery be
Everybody is wondering what and where they they all came from Everybody is worryin’ ’bout where they’re gonna go When the whole thing’s done But no one knows for certain And so it’s all the same to me…I think I’ll just let the mystery be I think I’ll just let the mystery be @IrisDement
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me—
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
They are tireless folk, but slow and sad—
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,—
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.