Great Song -- believe I have most of this correct...
Sometimes you feel like a shame or like a ruse,
a half cooked idea, or a trick to be used,
and sometimes you feel so lowly haunted and stark,
waving in the wind like a flag that's torn apart.
But we all walk blindly when we stagger and we strut,
and we're all dealt the hands with the cards of our luck,
and we all bow down silent, at the words and are struck,
by the shameless light of the broken afternoon.
I went walking in the night all alone,
darkness seeping slowly in my flesh and in my bone,
and the solitary biting at the thoughts inside my head,
and the words came slowly and the unborn dream said;
“That we all lose the path to the black and the blue,
but we all come back slackly to the tried and the true,
we'll all come together, no it's never too soon,
we'll all see the light, of the broken afternoon”.
In the scientific evening Jesus slept too soon,
trading his last dollar for a dirty motel room,
cause he gave all of his riches before he even knew what he had,
money isn't evil, and people aren't bad.
Now we all just descend down, to the mud and the dirt,
and we all go insane, from the pain and the hurt,
and all of us are swayed by the hungry pale moon,
but we'll all wake up clear in the broken afternoon.
I used to be young but I'm not old now,
the shimmering passing of you Scotty Pal,
the path to now or never is paved with ambition plain,
as a sail in the wind, or an empty guarded space.
That we all till and toil, in the slowly rising dawn,
and we're all fit to fail, till the future's finally won,
yeah we're all faintly waiting, for the young bride to bloom,
in the shuttering light of the broken afternoon.
Great Song -- believe I have most of this correct...
Sometimes you feel like a shame or like a ruse, a half cooked idea, or a trick to be used, and sometimes you feel so lowly haunted and stark, waving in the wind like a flag that's torn apart. But we all walk blindly when we stagger and we strut, and we're all dealt the hands with the cards of our luck, and we all bow down silent, at the words and are struck, by the shameless light of the broken afternoon.
I went walking in the night all alone, darkness seeping slowly in my flesh and in my bone, and the solitary biting at the thoughts inside my head, and the words came slowly and the unborn dream said; “That we all lose the path to the black and the blue, but we all come back slackly to the tried and the true, we'll all come together, no it's never too soon, we'll all see the light, of the broken afternoon”.
In the scientific evening Jesus slept too soon, trading his last dollar for a dirty motel room, cause he gave all of his riches before he even knew what he had, money isn't evil, and people aren't bad. Now we all just descend down, to the mud and the dirt, and we all go insane, from the pain and the hurt, and all of us are swayed by the hungry pale moon, but we'll all wake up clear in the broken afternoon.
I used to be young but I'm not old now, the shimmering passing of you Scotty Pal, the path to now or never is paved with ambition plain, as a sail in the wind, or an empty guarded space. That we all till and toil, in the slowly rising dawn, and we're all fit to fail, till the future's finally won, yeah we're all faintly waiting, for the young bride to bloom, in the shuttering light of the broken afternoon.