Copyright © 1990, 1998 Jack Hardy Music (BMI)
she played the part of a virgin she played it all too well in real life she was a veteran in the wars of kiss and tell outside the dirty harlem streets the dirty buy and sell i said "how can you look out the window and only see yourself?" (chorus:) through the mirror darkly through the looking glass through the eye of the needle this too shall pass ... through "someday i want children, but not at this point in time" she spoke it like a lawyer i took it as a sign but there was a longing in her voice the long and painful choice something shattered deep inside so far away from the noise (repeat chorus) i was far away, so far when i heard what she had done but it was not my star laid out on the horizon only half have the nerve only half have the heart only half get what they deserve out on that boulevard (repeat chorus)
the farmer he watches out over his field he harvests just what he has sown his only interest in a greater yield for the machines and the chemicals he owes each imperfection is now revealed as the reaper's long arm rakes the rows his yearly battle with nature is sealed he abandons the field to the crows let's look for a moment at the sleek dark mime and the black and the blue of his wings: he stalks his prey with the sharpness of a military mind and nobody ever says he sings an effigy made to scare him away dressed up all in poverty's clothes now only scares the children at play we abandon the field to the crows the rook he travels a straight and narrow path he is neither the pawn nor the king he fights out of sight with a terrible wrath and then sleeps where the church bells ring when the machines are so large that no one's in charge and the young men know what they know then all is in range for that brief exchange we abandon the field to the crows
no man no man shall travel this land 'til the sand wash down to the sea no strand no strand can hold its sand when the waves fan endlessly 'til all i have is ransomed all i have is sold 'til my country 'tis of thee no sand, no sand in the hourglass stands though i stand not wantonly no hand, no hand shall tarry this hand 'til that man shall marry me though all i have is silver all i have is gold 'tis the source and not sorcery to understand the talisman and the clan of mystery the forest stand, the wedding band without apostrophe though all my days are numbered all my stories told the riddle still is thee
discover what it is to be in love far flung in the withered leaves above the wings of light have filled my empty room the winter light that glares and stares at you i watched you light a candle with a friend the flame the fling the falling feeling ends i watched you take to flight and move away far above the darkened clouds to stay discover what it is to be in love to test the fates the taste beyond enough that lingers on the frostbitten core that adam left behind when he wanted more i watched you as the peeling hit the ground i tried to hold the feeling in the sound but you and i we had no heart to hear the part of the flame that isn't clear discover what it is to be in love to lie beneath the stone where lovers moan where two or three and one must never know that fantasy is real when you let it go and you and i belong to all this time that lingers in the night of the falling stars the hot and cold of crystal clarity that brings the flame an inch away from me discover what it is to be in love with a lover who is spoken for in tongues for the woman leads the man into her heart but the girl must lead the dancers in the dark and stumbling through the moon infested night remember it is not a pretty sight the flame the ash come crashing to the ground remember it is not a pretty sound
what a strange thought that a life be tied to gold deep in the mines out of sight the gulf and the grave the home of the brave where the balance is held with fright (chorus:) all our dreams are frozen in deceit left us wedded to a warning we will not heed all a white island frozen in a black sea the cost is too dear when life is so damn cheap what a strange thought that a church would own a deed or that a church would own anything at all to invest in the scheme the imperial dream and then turn their backs on it all (repeat chorus) what a strange thought that a party of free men would be a party to endorse this plan to buy and sell the gold they buy and sell the man and buy and sell the soul of their land (repeat chorus)
the buildings stand empty yet they still stand stand in the way of progress the bulldozers come to make their mark and the riot police are lurking in the dark the last bastion of true freedom the freeloaders and squatters on the land the artists and students, the riff-raff and lowlife these buildings have no future and they know it there is a plan, an incredible plan to build up the city of the future and all they must do is make these buildings disappear and then their way it is perfectly clear we're all in this same project together we speak the same language of economics and it makes a lot of sense and it makes a lot of dollars and if it makes a lot of homeless with no future, so what? that the towers will be built is not debated we hear them babbling in the press words like urban planning and revitalization they take away their homes and give them housing instead though they have the gift of tongues they have no love only the clanging of the factory bell destroying the beauty, the chaos, the understanding that is learned from that school called no future and what doth it profit a man to leave another homeless we who dare question this vanity know that a prophet is not without honor except among family in its own country without the past there can be no future the man ranting on the corner's been misunderstood they have destroyed his past and given him no future they look at their creation and say it is good
before you sing before you strum your silken strings uncloud your mind take yourself out of time remember me as a child unviolated and wild laid out upon your bed the wine but not the bread your thirst among my fears your verse for only my ears but you had magic, you had might you had everything in sight and everything i gave to you and still you do not know me before you sing before you strum your silver strings put down your cup which drowns the sounds of us one hallowed night defiled i conceived your child the life that you disowned the wife you tried to own at the crossroads of will the child you had me kill but you had causes, you had hope you always had enough rope but as your mother i gave birth to you and still you do not know me before you sing before you strum your muted strings put down your cross consider what it has cost my mask it mirrors yours the task you must endure laid out upon your bed to cup your weary head but the mirror is unseen and your life is obscene you have poisoned well the songs you sell you've created hell upon earth and the gleemen laugh with their ghoulish glee and still you do not know me
everyone knew that something had cracked lately they even wrote songs everyone knew of something she lacked very few asked what was wrong almost to a tee their lips were all sealed totally immersed in their game only using the muse she revealed refusing to mention it by name elfin ears sifting what to keep long wispy curls hiding spikes eyes that are always falling asleep venus-de-milo-ing dislikes all her collections of lyrics with names tore holes in her confidence game occasionally brightening her day just the same refusing to mention it by name endless numbers lit up as she passed lifting her spirits like a jet everyone said she would never be last valentines stuffed in her net all of us knew she collected us all temporary insanity or blissfully sane only i knew it to be her downfall refusing to mention it by name
we met as friends, as friends do meet and swore our friendship we would keep and turn our wrath on sacred quests and not succumb to all those jealous jests these dreams of mine i do not make there was this woman of the lake her face was young, her face was old her voice was hot, her breath was icy cold (chorus:) she dances on arthur's grave amid the ruins on salisbury plain in glastonbury's setting sun and counts her suitors one by one she let fall her handkerchief he let fall the gauntlet grief no second chances to decide if might is right and right is on our side converted by a wayward smile he stood his ground demanding trial and i who could not raise my pride took his wound deep into my side (repeat chorus) but all the same i was to blame i could not claim a martyr's name for 'twas i who did betray the sorcerer's mask i misused today and only one thing troubles my heart: a wound that will not succumb to art that there are those who believe this lore and conjure things worth fighting for (repeat chorus)
at the edge of the flame where the heat is so clear where there is nowhere left to hide the smoke curls inside the blue cellophane in the neon shattered night all her days she spent in despair small cafés with her coat on the chair the horse's head from the dustcover stared how it stared how it stared patterns of rain pearls of sweat the stalls of the stable were clean the locks of the mane the veins of the neck were taut and the nostrils were lean all her days she'd been waiting for this ride the thundering hooves and the moment to decide the thrust of thighs and the scream from deep inside deep inside deep inside at the edge of the flame where it always has been as long as you don't reach inside she swallowed the wine she shattered the glass she somehow felt denied all the night the waiter paced the room wondering how and where and when to make his move he stooped to sweep the glass, returned the stiffened broom and she was gone she was gone
i have stared at this drop of rain too long so long it has disappeared if i had touched this drop would it be here or gone? i am a prisoner of my fears the storm has passed me by again this has all the makings of a drought yet the desert has the most beautiful of all the sunsets and anything's a work of art if you take the time to frame it the women's skirts have a certain rustle in the spring reminiscent of the leaves of fall the park is lonely when it's crowded in spring i feel suspended from it all and i risked a fine for you today picking park flowers for your hair and still you ask me to define our relationship well anything's a work of art if you take the time to frame it he stared long at the tenement stairs carefully lining up his shot adjusting the lens to take in the chair the naked lightbulb and the knot and this one could win a prize or two or hang on some banker's wall another wasted life with no one to claim it and anything's a work of art if you take the time to frame it and i haunt the cafés where life's critics confide idle conversation through idle lips imagining novels from their wasted lives marking time outside of it i am beginning to see why there are more suicides in spring for spring is such a crowning blow that nothing can follow it and anything's a work of art if you take the time to frame it
and the child has found his way to the spring with no one to lead him by hand through the briars and brambles and nettles that sting he follows each step of her plan and the mother who washes her clothes by hand looks up as the cranes cross the sky as the old woman battles the chill on the strand a shell that is left by the tide and the child's built a boat to sail on the river to play pretty prince to the queen and the play is so real as to cause her to shiver abandoned in the bulrushes unseen and the mother who watches the ocean for help for the boats filled with sweet spanish wine as the old woman hobbles her way to the well to draw up the flow with her line and the child runs the beach with the horse-hooves of thunder with his sword he does battle the waves with abandon each thrust has now drawn him under no thought and no spell can now save and the mother who's left to watch o'er the spring looks up as the horsemen pass by as the old woman tends the boat as she sings and holds out her hand for the tithe in the time between time in the light before dawn when the devil gets his due on the grass and the sweet spanish wine lays spilled on the lawn the sound on the wind does not last in the time between time when the moon is at full when love lies hobbled in the hay by this water with no source and no force and no pull by this water we are all washed away