Mareseatoatsanddoeseatoatsbutlittlelambseativy.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

Night Train by Bruce Cockburn, from The Charity Of Night (1996)

Not a knife-throw from here you can hear the night train passing
That's the sound somebody makes when they're getting away
Leaving next week's hanging jury far behind them
Prisoner only of the choices they've made
Night Train

Ice cube in a dark drink shines like starlight
The moon is floating somewhere out at sea
I'm an island in the blur of noise and colour
Alcatraz, St. Helena, Patmos and the Chateau d'If
Night Train

Everyone's an island edged with sand
A temporary refuge where somebody else can stand
Till the sea that binds us like the forced tide of a blood oath
Will wear it down -- dissolve it -- recombine it

Anyone can die here -- they do it every day
It doesn't take much effort tho it goes against the grain
And the ultimate forgetfulness of violence
Sweeps the landscape like the headlight of a train
Night Train

Ice cube in a dark drink shines like starlight
Starlight shines like glass shards in dark hair
And the mind's eye tumbles out along the steel track
Fixing every shadow with its stare
Night Train

And in the absence of a vision there are nightmares
And in the absence of compassion there is cancer
Whose banner waves over palaces and mean streets
And the rhythm of the night train is a mantra

1 comment:

gberke said...

The man is amazing.
The answer, I find to all this mystery of compasion, love, respect, admiration: mirror neurons: The mind of Cockburn, packaged into words, reaches us, and we are of the mind of Cockburn, elevated for that time to that passing state of grace, the stringed soul that sang and soared when deftly bowed by spirit.
Now to find and hear him.
BTW: I was introduced by accident to Kenny Rankin long ago. I forgot about him, there is so much abundance, but just pulled down a copy of "here's that rainy day"