Writing on Water

In the dark all the coughing
The clatter of the dice
The rhythm of the ball
The melting of the ice
And I been reading Keats in the night
Reaching a last hand out toward the light
Figures of hoboes between the tracks
The lanterns and the highwaymen are real
So was the gunfire the very next time
I rode on down to finish the deal


I saw my father mad in the street
Even in a year of living
How much could you write on the water?







I assure you there's nothing new to say
I don't care in how many tongues you speak
Might be the first time you've particularly heard it
That don't mean it's unique
I been listening to Dylan every morning
Singing every word and heeding every warning
Nothing is quicker than death
No matter how fast you live
It's already there waiting for you with every last breath
What you can keep is only what you give

I saw my father mad in the street
Even in a year of living
How much could you write on the water?


Sometimes it's too beautiful to surrender
Othertimes too terrible to bear
There's room enough in every parlor
To set an empty chair
I been standing at the intersection
Wondering what to do with my soul
How come I got nothin' to show
For all the times it's been bought and sold
All these missing persons out here
Searching the sky for angels with wings
When anyone of us might break the chains and soar
Go somewhere down within and find the heart to sing
Must have been nearby a schoolyard
Cause I could hear the children and they ran and chirped and chattered
The tribulations weighing on me lifted like a cloud of unknowing
Took flight with the four winds and scattered

I saw my father mad in the street
Even in a year of living
How much could you write on the water?