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David Knopfler - Forty Days and Nights lyrics
The wind is weeping voices and they fill my tattooed sails Maybe God in grace rejoices as another sinner fails She says "You talk like every crazy, transfixed by The Northern Lights There's a movie a-running round your head, call it 'Forty Days and Nights' " For forty days and forty nights in the belly of my whale I was handcuffed high on my own denial and a blacklist of betrayals I have bowed my head in silence, nailed inside "Belief", Crucified by certainties and righteous burning grief I have travelled with the holy, the worldly and the wise Baby maybe we were closer then than we ever realised For forty days and forty nights I wrestled here with my appetites Pressed up against your pearly gates with such promise of delights But for all these vows to heaven, how many change their ways? And I would sooner tremble in your eyes than feel nothing in your gaze If I rejected all ambition - If I resigned the two bit parts If the price was true perdition - Man I knew that from the start I have done with helpless feelings and I have climbed your callous walls Where catcalls, jeers and beatings break these bartered, broken souls Where shadows vault the ceilings at the vivisection ball When the wings of death come a- beating fast across these martyr's halls I'm still living with my conscience still celebrating Art 'Til I Reach the last confinement at The Home of Exiled Hearts The King and Queen of Laughter - They got no place left to go And they will play out their final chapter here on death row radio Where with the angels of the city as the guilty stars burn out My Samurai are sleeping light in Tinseltown tonite In the wind I still hear voices as the ancient comrades call Does God in grace avert his face as another angel falls? I can hear their voices clearer at the final curtain call There were many who rejoiced to see a tiny sparrow fall How the sins of all their fathers - stack up against the sons Called but never chosen - to be their chosen ones And the wind is weeping voices. They fill my tattooed sails Maybe God in grace is crying at injustice that prevails And averts his face in sufferance for those black trains on the rails Perhaps right now he's a-mocking my pretensions and portrayals In forty days and forty night-time tales. |
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