He stood upon the last
|
Bastions of the place
|
Looked out on the ruins
|
With thunder in his face
|
|
An introverted spectacle
|
In the flowers on the rocks
|
The daisies on the ramparts
|
Blowing free
|
|
His heart was divided
|
Clouds gathered in the sky
|
The belfry made of wood and steel
|
Was silenced in it’s cry
|
|
Something must have happened
|
What, he wouldn’t say
|
But shown within
|
The wider lens of history
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
His mission the transmission
|
Of technology
|
|
One cannon trained upon the church
|
This one caught his eye
|
“to keep the bishop in his place”
|
He muttered with a sigh
|
|
His mood was melancholy
|
His attitude severe
|
His inner burden
|
Weighed upon him mightily
|
A bird as never seen in books
|
Flew in overhead
|
A kind of dove it might have been
|
But not a sound was said
|
|
All the ancient knowledge lay
|
In pieces on the ground
|
The cause of all his suffering
|
Was not for love of me.
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
His mission the transmission
|
Of technology
|
|
-----------------
|
Portrait Of The Knight Of Wands
|
| Suzanne Vega |
