Here in my broken tattooed mind

Here in my isolation with my broken tattooed mind
Across the road from paradise with the love I’m trying to find
I see the marriage in Cana from the stop across the street
As if time itself had hit me in my drowning broken teeth.

Yessan,  England, you’re a long way down the road
Way ahead, with your windows on the shoulders of the poor
Your rolling stock don’t pass this way no more
And I stand here on this crossroads screaming floor.

I’m looking up to heaven I suppose that’s what it is
I’m seeing the kind of vision that your grandfather slept with
Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at your shore
But you cling to the economy and to war.

I pick up my right foot I leave wedding songs behind
I pick up my left and go where England cannot find
The party guests dancing or the miraculous vats of wine
Across the road in another patch of time.

Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at your shore
But you cling to economy and to war.

Yes and Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at you shore
You struggle to survive with the world’s fast changing law
Your song thrush sings bravely on your highest telephone wire.
The jet plane comes screaming through broken cathedral spire.

Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at your shore
But you cannot follow those ancient feet no more.

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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