Better Days

Welcome to the blog of Doug "Duke" Lang, songwriter and host of Better Days, a radio show spinning journeys from music and language, heard Thursdays ten-to-midnight Pacific time at www.coopradio.org Listen to songs at www.myspace.com/dukelang

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Location: Vancouver, Canada

Monday, February 20, 2006

Water For A Stranger

I saw angels coming down the hill
The old recurring dream
They take their maker by the hand
And lead him to the stream
God, he must be thirsty
They know his mouth is dry
Look at how he trembles
As if he's going to die

God, his mouth is dry

We drift through nameless valleys
Gypsies, no homelands
The truth laid bare, the ruthless prayer
That opens folded hands
Our bodies free these unheard choirs
When we lay them down
Our blood goes singing through the wires
Crier without a town

I hear the voices now

That woman back in Francisville
Did you note her eyes
So wide and deep, they put to sleep
The nuisance of our cries
Call it a lesson, call it a grace
The pain those eyes absorbed
Her soul alight around her face
Her purpose undisturbed

She needn't say a word

Go on, then, share your story
Your body knows the song
And if you hear wings, don't worry
The tale we tell is long

Are they real or are we dreaming
The footprints on the path
Is it real or is it dreaming
Tonight we know it's both
For we are on the path

There are angels coming down the hill
The old recurring dream
They take their maker by the hand
And lead him to the stream
Water for a stranger
They know his mouth is dry
Look at how he trembles

As if he's going to die
God, his mouth is dry

DL