Fragments of songs

Railroad gates between the king and queen of swords. The riverboat-captain knows my faith and Louise is clutching on to his long golden locks. Where are you tonight sweet Marie, you know you’re lost little girl, always get chocolate-stains on your pants ‘cos we’re living in a trance behind the yellow railroad. But always remember: “The sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken” when it rises early in the morning and calls: “You too – please come home”. You know I can make it without you but honey please don’t – you better go now. ‘Cos the cards, with fifteen jugglers, is no good that you’re holding down your black’o pocket. They’re just what’s left of a series of dreams. And your face like glass could brake any second if you’ll stop telling lies and travel back to the missionary times where we all are dancing in the moonlight under the sixteen banners that’s been united over the fields. 48 hours later, when we are steady to the pictures, the sun is breaking. And right now it’s three o’clock in the morning an we’re scarved by the bright light from the room where the heatpipes just chough. But Einstein disguised as Robin Hood won’t let no friend of the Devil trail us back to Reno where we can’t get no sleep. So that’s why we’ll go down to mobile and watch the governor hand out free tickets to the wedding of his son. The son that all the sad eyed ladies wants’ to stay forever young with. But he has a heart of his own and his eyes are locked tight on sweet Jane who he’s waiting for down on the corner. And Jane breaks just like a woman and from her lips you can draw a last fragile hallelujah if you just have the patience to wait for the miracle long enough . That’s not unusual if you ponder the fact that the name of her sister is sweet Marie who is calling from a booth in the Midwest and screams about her lost cufflinks she bought ten years ago. I can’t find the however ‘cos I’m a rolling stone all alone down the lost highway where I’ll pay the cost for a life in sin. So when I reach the railroad-gates the gentlemen better get braced for the changing of the guards. I don’t need their organization anymore.

Skriven av: Karl Grauers