Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Monday, September 19, 2005

IN THE ARMS OF SLEEPING SORROW

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

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Sometimes it’s all so very hard
This weight will bring you down
Sometimes what’s right doesn’t stand a chance
Like this romance, like love
The world was made to die
In the arms of sleeping sorrow
In the ending of the dream

I hold you like a charm
And wait for falling water
To wash away the night
I hold you like a dream
In the arms of sleeping sorrow
In the arms of a good bye
Goodbye

I construct the broken staircase
I build the ruined wall
We use patch along the fault lines
And kick rocks on down the hall
And honesty is mercy
And hope is just a curse
You think you got it bad
Then bad just goes to worse
And you let out all the wonder
And you freeze the lightning sky
And then you sit and wonder
Why did God make us to die?
In the arms of sleeping sorrow
In the arms of a good bye
Goodbye

In the arms of sleeping sorrow
In the ending of the dream

Sometimes it’s all so very hard
This weight will bring you down
Sometimes what’s right doesn’t stand a chance
Like this deconstructed romance
Like love so weakly spent
The world was made to die
In the arms of sleeping sorrow
In the ending of the dream

I hold you like a charm
And wait for falling water
To wash away the night
I hold you like a dream
In the arms of sleeping sorrow
In the arms of a good bye
Goodbye

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Image of William Blake's "Pieta" from here.

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Politics, and writings about politics, can talk about having compassion for those who suffer, but can this thing we call "politics" participate in the direct experience of loss and despair? No, because it is not a human being. Politics is a corporate form, occupied by those who hustle for their beliefs or for the brass ring. Imagine the Senate, with 100 Senators, raising their voices in unison, singing of sorrow, a chamber of lamentation. Strange idea.

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