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Last Ship to Avalon
mat_j
17 Dec 2003
For four score years and ten we've stood on this shore,
But I don't know if I can live here anymore,
For what we've lost and what we've gained,
Can't substitute for all this pain
Fear to forget, fear of regret,
Fear your looking for something you ain't found yet
Fear she looked, fear she smiled
Fear for the hours you didn't while
And not far away someone's a waiting
For gold or god or some message a prophets stating
And if they're lost or alone or waiting for answers
Or they praying or loving or admiring the dancers
And you help and befriend them and ask if they're good
And awake in the morning wonder if you should
And the face on money with the paper-ink look
Ain't a substitute for what you find in a book
And the last moments of strangers who waited in vain
Checking their watches and sitting on trains
Staring through windows and up at the sky
Some waiting to live some waiting to die
And the people are frightened, they feel it the most
And the heavenly father, son and ghost
Have slipped from the hearts of the children today
At every corner I'm losing my way
And the rains getting worse now or is it my mind
Or is it the actions of all of man kind
And commies and Nazi and all boger men
Are raising their ugly heads again
And I'm lost in the motion, lost in the idea
That smiling is good because you are here
And your eyes always twinkle and your heart is warm
And you'll keep me sheltered from the coming storm
In the shop fronts and doorways the shadows get long
And the tune on a guitar of a protest song
An old man is happy but his wife is crying
Cause keeping appearances is what we've been buying
And I can't give you fifty and I can't give you none
And I can't give food stamps or give you a gun
And I can't rock the cradle and I can't tend the grave
And I can't be the master or can't free the slave
And I can't hold the flag and I can't turn my back
And if I don't toe the line then I'll get the sack
But what I can do is offer my hand
Then maybe some good will return to this land
And the words may be different but the tune is the same
And some people listen and some turn their heads in shame
And the lies and the promise that things will improve
That somewhere the needle has slipped from the groove
And what happens when you've written all you can write,
Do you lay down your pen do you stand up and fight?
And what does the skin of a muse feel like
The tingle on you neck when lightning's gonna strike?
And everyone's fighting to be in the last line
But if you stop to ask they'll tell you they're fine
And if you ask me I'll tell you I'm clearing my mind
But when the thoughts go away some more come behind
And the answers not easy but it's not really hard
But I still don't know it so I'll throw in my card
And I'll keep on thinking till my time is up
Then I think I'll just rest after I drink from the cup
All the questions I'm asking are met with silence
And all the problems of the world are solved by violence
Just give me a chance and soon I'll be gone
Hitching a ride on the last ship to Avalon.
(Taken from Vespers) Written in response to Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan
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