Midday in London • The terrorists were evidently on strike
So we chanced the tube • Subterranean refugees that we were
Up through the sidewalk in Soho • We chanced only the meat pie
A man was being propositioned • It was a middle-aged female prostitute
"I make love for a living; • Want to do business?"
"No thanks, I'm just having a sandwich"
Mister Freddie B. Morris • Insists that we are Communists
He, aided by two bottles of rum • And half his remaining live brain cells
He's crying over his lost wife whom he left
He's going to France • He wishes he could go to Canada
An hour out from Dover • He doesn't feel the deck move beneath our feet

Hollywood on a November night • The volcano's ashes wouldn't fall through the smog blanket
The air cast a shadow
Somewhere in the city someone was singing • I could hear it
Somewhere in the city someone was dying • I could feel it
Good and bad news from the same messenger
"Hot and cold running reality" • I said to the guy in the next car • Waiting for the light to change
"Leave me alone man • I want to go home"

These days • We put on cars like shoes • And walk faster • We form lines and remain mute
Almost unaware of the walkers around us • As we transcend space
We put on wings like a coat • And spend morning and evening in separate worlds
Instant schizophrenia • As we transcend time

Maps hide cities • And cities hide houses • And houses hide faces • And faces hide hearts
But hearts still beat quietly
Few feel even their own pulse
But hearts are made to beat
We can drown them out with more accessible rhythms • But they continue the counterpoint
Hearts are made to beat
Our souls are still within us • Our Creator waits for us to notice
As our geographical boundaries • Are chased around the sun by time
Decaying in a fashion some call normal
 


From Stop the Dominoes
Back to Mark Heard Lyric Project