Deep River

Rádio Etiópia.

De Lisboa para todo o mundo,

um programa

dedicado

a todos os grandes pecadores deste mundo.

E lonora melusir. E vuvai. E vuvai. E vuvai.

E

vuvai.

Every

little tear, every little tear.

Every little whisper, it'll shone away.

Every little cold,

every little breeze.

Every little tear shining like the dew.

Every shimmering,

shimmering you.

I am awake now,

so hopefully I will be soon.

Every little shimmering, keep me high and

low. Only

you.

Only

you.

Every little tear, every little wave.

Every little whisper,

every

The hour is thin.

Trafalgar Square is calm.

Birds and cold black dark, the final famine of a wicked sun and the web that died yesterday.

I was a hard copy version.

I turned my eyes directly to hate.

Then the hammer of toil.

Tired with what the world has yet brought forth, with the women waving at war and the news that war is faith.

Filled with tremendous cheering, leaping and night rings, ding, dang and gongs.

Who did not feel any purpose?

The phoenix broods serene above the moment.

You are fighting for,

I wonder what destiny.

We waste away our hours and darken.

Beneath the velvet of a strong optimism, Britain's most fateful hour is spun.

Copy this point on a gong.

Choirs like bells, like a national truce and the new sun where the air is something new.

Men dream of a swell so high, endeavor to get through the lies and the bees to find something that historians can rake out of the drums and all that

color and savagery.

Boom, the dark

and the web that died yesterday.

The phoenix broods serene above the tower of time.

Not enough boats.

He admitted without shame that he had entered into the dreams of the named addressee in the velvet of war.

Well lad, you've taken my heart away. I shall miss the grin of the cold black sea.

Before ever there was writing, they were taking up stones to hurl at last stroke, but nobody looked back.

There were soldiers, there was a cradle.

The universe is required.

Please notify the sun.

I've been hunting out again.

I'm holding a pearl that I found here.

A head

and a piece of meat.

The meat bleeds,

the head speaks.

A string of pearls of wisdom, a necklace of tears.

The spider and the fly,

in the end which one will I?

Petals fall

in the garden as I walk

to the house cold winter

I find the souls of men

elusive, misunderstood, growing with the yarrow in the purple shaded wood. Savage!

Throw me another line

and cast it out just a little bit further next time.

The spider and the fly,

in the end which one am I?

Now standing

blood smeared,

looking out across the wasteland.

What's in my sights?

My funny Valentine.

Sweet comic valentine.

You make me smile

with my heart.

Your looks are laughable,

unphotographable.

But you're my

favorite work

of art.

Is your figure

less than Greek?

Is your mouth a little weak?

When you open it to speak, are you smart?

Don't change a hair for me,

not if you care for me.

Stay,

little valentine,

stay.

Each day

is Valentine's Day. My funny

valentine.

Sweet

comic valentine.

You make me smile

with my heart.

Your looks are laughable, unphotographable.

But you're my favorite work of art.

Is your figure

less than Greek?

Is your mouth just a little weak?

When you open it to speak,

are you smart?

Don't change one hair for me,

not if you care for me.

Stay,

little valentine,

stay.

Each day

is Valentine's Day.

Each day

is Valentine's

Day.

All of the night.

All of my strength.

All of your light.

The skinless and the heart.

Eyeless, lifeless, gone.

Toward me.

Like grains of sand.

Tossed in bitter winds.

A waning flame.

Found higher thought.

To carry me.

Seen through bitter maze.

I descend a grave.

In approaching dark.

Guiding star unseen.

Not dead in the pine

Deep river,

my home is over Jordan.

Deep river, Lord,

I want to cross over into campground.

Deep river,

my home is over Jordan.

Deep river,

Lord, I want to cross over into campground.

Oh, don't you want to go

to the gospel feast? That promised land

where all is

peace.

Deep river, Lord,

I want to cross over into campground.

Divers

of the dust, you can help me if you must. Divers of the dust.

Lying here on the rocks with the cliffs disintegrating. Last I heard, in the end, the waves were scraping city streets. You've got the window to see seven lines of

stunted trees. How did we end up here, and how do we

meet?

I hear sirens. Fish are flowing through my veins.

Divers of the dust, you couldn't understand. You were the bullet in my gun. I was your man.

Divers of the dust, this pipe in your hand. You were the bullet fired into the ravaged land.

The self

is the basis of all being, and being is not something into which we come,

but out of which we proceed.

In popular language,

we say, "I came into this world,"

as if you came from somewhere else altogether,

from outside.

But you don't. You come out of this world,

just in the same way as the leaves come from the tree.

So in that way you are an expression of it,

and the self meaning

itself,

self meaning

identity,

self meaning

basis,

ground.

You must belong to this thing.

I don't believe that I'm here when I know I am there.

Nothing they say will convince 'cause I know I am there.

Back of my mind, there is fear that you're not really there.

I won't say what you are not, so just wait, don't despair.

You set

off my brain. You

set off my

brain.

Days and time will crush the pain.

I don't

know why you think you're not to blame. Conversations and screams will mortise and combine, and replace.

Replace me again, take it back through the time. You set off my

brain.

You

set off my

brain.

You

set off my brain.

You set off my brain.

You set, you set off my brain.

Dedicado

a todos os grandes pecadores deste mundo.