Monday, November 17, 2003
All Our Dark Tomorrows
posted by John Davies at 8:36 PM
Hardly saw light today. Even with four hours on the road, on a mission to buy Christmas presents in a distant town. Not expecting much light from the airwaves over the next few days, either. Bush's visit is likely to be discussed either in satirical tones or recycled Downing Street press releases, neither of these being sufficient to reveal the sick heart of this man's project.
So, numbed by walls of drifting spray and lines of taillights under a leaden sky, my eyes were opened by a Bruce Cockburn apocalyptic filling my radio-purged car. You know who he's talking about:  The village idiot takes the throne
His the wind in which all must sway
All sane people, die now
Be lifted up and carried away
You've got no home in this world of sorrows
There's a parasite feeding on
Everybody's bag of rage
What goes out returns again
To smite the mouth and burn the page
Under the rain of all our dark tomorrows
I can see in the dark - it's where I used to live
I see excess and the gaping need
Follow the money - see where it leads...
It's to shrunken men stuffed up with greed
They meet and make plans in strange half-lit tableaux
Under the rain of all our dark tomorrows
You've got no home in this world of sorrows
|
john davies
 yellow on blue CAT.png)
