e a ouvir o regresso da chuva lá fora recorda-se cá dentro outro nocturno mais-que-perfeito de daniel lanois, 
que me tem acompanhado desde sempre e teve o condão de tornar mais suaves os momentos mais duros

Union station, tombstone high


No more tears, this fountain dry


Nameless faces, just headlines


We don't ride that train no more

No resistance, turn my head


They could go out East instead


Newfoundland, land of my father


I don't ride your train no more

Cold steel shining, Battle Creek


Eyes are heavy, rain and sea


Massey-Ferguson memories


Don't ride that train no more

Hey, there captain, is that you


Could you tell me, tell me what to do


I've been twenty years on that Soo line


Now we don't ride your train no more

Smoke rises from the face of sand


Dreams about, dreams of beaver dams


Sam can't hear quite like he used to


Tell them why we don't ride no more

Hey, Pierre Trudeau oh, where are you?


My friend to lead us through


These hard times, oh so much confusion


I don't hear your train no more

um nocturno mais-que-perfeito de daniel lanois, 
de que já não me lembrava *


 
A man carried metal, carried gold
More than he could handle, more than he could hold
It weighed him down to a sand shallow grave
Where his bones were eaten by a heat wave
While here it rains all night and it blows a sweet breeze
I think I'll call you up
And say please, baby please

I love you, I love you, yeah, I love you, yeah, I love you

Ah the dream machine
Makes it hard to see
If I could stand outside myself and watch it come to me
I'd make the dream
Filter down to my fingers and rip at the fools head and follow your scent that lingers

'Cause I love you, yeah I love you, I love you, yeah I love you

'Til the crash and the booming of the white bomb
Come sure, come soon, come leave just one song
One song, one beat, one dust, one end, one for all
One stone for the marking for the dream when it falls

When I love you, and I love you, yeah I love you, oh yeah I love you
I love you








* mas que a ana rita em boa hora recordou

desde 1991 que esta grande canção de daniel lanois se tornou uma das da minha vida.
inesperada e escondida na banda sonora de um filme de wim wenders, por vezes dou por mim - ainda hoje - a trauteá-la.

I thought of you in blue and red

I thought of you where you were playing

I thought of you in my bed

You were there bound and chained

I thought of you there next to me

Wearing your pretty face

I thought of everything you could be

Sleeping in the devil's bed

I looked for you when lights were low

And I payed for what I had

I looked for you way down below

Till I felt I was going mad

I think of you and I tell myself

And the fever rises high

I think of you and I get what’s coming

Sleeping in the devil's bed

Oh why why why why, baby why?

Oh why why why why why why, baby why?

I thought of you up there on the ladder

I thought of you when I heard the news

I thought of you when it didn't matter

If I accepted or refused

I warned you when I wanted more

I wanted everything

I wanted what I couldn't give

Sleeping in the devil's bed

I woke up in the steady rain

I woke up when you said

It's late and I'm feeling heavy

Could you hold my aching head

I found myself tangled in wire

I found you there in my dreams

I found you in desire

You had left the devil's bed

[mais que um nocturno mais-que-perfeito:
um espiritual para o fim do tempo restante]



Oh, oh deep water, black and cold like the night
I stand with arms wide open, I've run a twisted line
I'm a stranger in the eyes of the Maker

I could not see for the fog in my eyes
I could not feel for the fear in my life
And from across the great divide, 
In the distance I saw a light
Jean Baptiste's walking to me with the Maker

My body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham and turn my head away
I'm not a stranger in the hands of the Maker

Brother John, have you seen the homeless daughters
Standing there with broken wings
I have seen the flaming swords 
There over east of Eden
Burning in the eyes of the Maker

(Oh, river rise from your sleep...)