The Bells of Bartella

I heard hope today,
Returning to the land,
The hope thrown to the wind,
And scattered in the sand,

The blood that drained,
And soaked away there,
That bought with it death,
And the silence of despair,

And the silence of the voices,
Of those who lived in fear,
The silence of the western world,
Where no one wants to hear,

The justice that was silenced,
By the bark of Kalashnikov
And the silence of the voices,
Calling off the dogs,

The cries for help that never came,
Smothered by the bombs,
Mothers cries for Children,
Children's cries for Mums,

The silence of indifference,
Where was God, where was his love?
And where was the sound of hope,
Calling from above,

The desert now was waiting,
Ravaged by the winds of war,
And howling shrills of violence,
For the sounds from long before,

For the sound from all creation,
Calling all things well,
Calling out new life,
The peal of the bell,

Clear, and strong, and defiant,
The bell calls into the wind,
And the wilderness is surrendering,
It's children up again,

I heard the sound of hope today,
Ringing as a bell,
Summoning hope from death,
And calling us back from hell,

Like the silence never really came,
For the hope never died, nor lost it's smile,
Only the gaps between the claps,
Got longer for a while.


I heard hope today,
Returning to the land,
Hope that had been thrown to the wind,
And scattered in the sand,
Now returning to the hand.

Bored with the King (of Israel)

Well I might get bored with all the presents,
And bored with Santa Clause,
Bored with Christmas turkey,
And the gifts strewn on the floor,

 

Bored with saving up
And bored with being broke,
Bored with being nice to relatives,
With whom this year you barely spoke,

 

I may get bored with all the tinsel,
The trappings and pretence,
Bored with keeping peace,
Bored with making sense,

 

Bored with the Queens speeches,
Bored with the aftermath,
Bored with being pleasant
To those who should feel my wrath,

 

Bored with Christmas carols,
Bored with TV repeats,
Bored with over eating,
I want to run out in the streets,

 

Shouting what's this got to do with Christmas,
What's this got to do with the Son,
Of God who came to do the dirty deed,
And get salvation done?

 

What has this got to do with him,
Who came to uplift the poor,
That we're maxing out our credit cards,
Out shopping from store to store?

 

What has this got to do with Jesus,
Christ, I can't see how,
We neglect the lonely,
In the name of family right now!

 

What has this to do with him,
Who died for being real?
And tied him into cocacola clause,
And the elves and the whole deal?

 

What has this indulgence,
Got to do with the King
Dying on a cross,
To deliver us from sin?

 

I can be bored with Christmas,
I can be bored,  as bored as hell,
But I will never be bored with the King,
Of Israel.

 

No Hell, No Hell, No Hell,  No Hell,
Not Bored with the king of Israel.

Chelsea Hotel #2

"Chelsea Hotel #2"

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."

And then you got away, didn't you babe...

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.

Suzanne (By Leonard Cohen)

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night forever
And you know that she's half-crazy but that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her
Then he gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer that you've always been her lover

 

And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind

 

And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him
He said all men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them

But he himself was broken, long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human, he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

 

And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with her mind

 

Now, Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river
She's wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds her mirror

 

And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind