Her skulle der have stået en upersonlig julehilsen, men i stedet giver jeg ordet til Elvis Costello: Ive got this phosphorescent portrait of gentle Jesus meek and mild Ive got this harlot that Im stuck with carrying another mans child The solitary star announcing vacancy burned out as we arrived Theyd throw us back across the border if they knew that we survived And they were surprised to see us So they greeted us with palms They asked for ammunition, acts of contrition and small alms And I might recite a small prayer If I ever said them I lay down on an iron frame And found myself in bedlam I wish that I could take something for drowning out the noise Wailing echoes down the corridors Ive got this imaginary radio, and Im punching up the dial Ive got the A.C. trained on the T.V. so it wont blow up in my eye And everything I thought fanciful and mocked as too extreme Must be family entertainment here in the strange land of my dreams And Im practicing my likeness of St. Francis of Assisi And if I hold my hand outstretched A little bird comes to me And I might recite a small prayer If I ever said them I lay down on an iron frame And found myself in bedlam Escaping from the fingers that were stretching through the bars Wailing echoes down the corridors The player piano picks out Life Goes On The ring tone rang out Jerusalem Into the pit of sadness Where the wretched plunge Weve buried all the innocents Now we must bury revenge Theyve got this scared and decorated girl strapped to the steel trunk of a Mustang They drove her down a cypress grove where traitors hang and stars still spangle They dangled flags and other rags along a coloured thread of twine They dragged that bruised and purple heart along the road to Palestine Someone went off muttering, he mentioned thirty pieces Easter saw a slaughtering, each wrapped in bloodstained fleeces Then my thoughts returned to vengeance, but I put up no resistance Though I seemed a long way from my home It really was no distance And I might recite a small prayer If I ever said them I lay down on an iron frame And found myself in bedlam Bowing like an actor acknowledging applause Playing the Crusader who was conquering the Moors When he knew the consequences, but he wont admit the cause Wailing echoes down the corridors
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 00:54:26 +0000
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