No money in our jackets and our jeans are torn,
Your hands are cold but your lips are warm.
Sometimes you're the windshield. Sometimes your the bug.
Mark KnopflerTag: sometimes bug windshield
There's so many different worlds, so many different suns. And we have just one world, but we live in different ones.
Mark KnopflerTag: war diversity worlds longing-for-peace
I’m a maker of ballads right pretty
I write them right here in the street
You can buy them all over the city
yours for a penny a sheet
I’m a word pecker out of the printers
out of the dens of Gin Lane
I’ll write up a scene on a counter
- confessions and sins in the main, boys
confessions and sins in the main
Then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’s
keeping the demons at bay
There’s nothing like gin for drowning them in
but they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day
They come rattling over the cobbles
they sit on their coffins of black
Some are struck dumb, some gabble
top-heavy on brandy or sack
The pews are all full of fine fellows
and the hawker has set up her shop
As they’re turning them off at the gallows
she’ll be selling right under the drop, boys
selling right under the drop
Then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’s
keeping the demons at bay
There’s nothing like gin for drowning them in
but they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day
Tag: poets madame-genevas pedlars public-hanging troubadours
The drinking dens are spilling out
There's staggering in the square
There's lads and lasses falling about
And a crackling in the air
Down around the dungeon doors
The shelters and the queues
Everybody's looking for
Somebody's arms to fall into
And it's what it is
It's what it is now
There's frost on the graves and the monuments
But the taverns are warm in town
People curse the government
And shovel hot food down
The lights are out in the city hall
The castle and the keep
The moon shines down upon it all
The legless and asleep
And it's cold on the tollgate
With the wagons creeping through
Cold on the tollgate
God knows what I could do with you
And it's what it is
It's what it is now
The garrison sleeps in the citadel
With the ghosts and the ancient stones
High up on the parapet
A Scottish piper stands alone
And high on the wind
The highland drums begin to roll
And something from the past just comes
And stares into my soul
And it's cold on the tollgate
With the Caledonian Blues
Cold on the tollgate
God knows what I could do with you
And it's what it is
It's what it is now
What it is
It's what it is now
There's a chink of light, there's a burning wick
There's a lantern in the tower
Wee Willie Winkie with a candlestick
Still writing songs in the wee wee hours
On Charlotte Street I take
A walking stick from my hotel
The ghost of Dirty Dick
Is still in search of Little Nell
And it's what it is
It's what it is now
Oh what it is
What it is now
Tag: history storytelling scotland edinburgh what-it-is
We prayed these wars would end all wars --
In war we know is no romance."
(Done With Bonaparte)
Tag: war romance cruelty bloodshed
I don't like definitions, but if there is a definition of freedom, it would be when you have control over your reality to transform it, to change it, rather than having it imposed upon you. You can't really ask for more than that.
Mark KnopflerTelegraph Road
A long time ago came a man on a track
Walking thirty miles with a pack on his back
And he put down his load where he thought it was the best
Made a home in the wilderness
He built a cabin and a winter store
And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
And the other travellers came riding down the track
And they never went further, no, they never went back
Then came the churches, then came the schools
Then came the lawyers, then came the rules
Then came the trains and the trucks with their loads
And the dirty old track was the telegraph road
Then came the mines - then came the ore
Then there was the hard times, then there was a war
Telegraph sang a song about the world outside
Telegraph road got so deep and so wide
Like a rolling river ...
And my radio says tonight it's gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
There's six lanes of traffic
Three lanes moving slow ...
I used to like to go to work but they shut it down
I got a right to go to work but there's no work here to be found
Yes and they say we're gonna have to pay what's owed
We're gonna have to reap from some seed that's been sowed
And the birds up on the wires and the telegraph poles
They can always fly away from this rain and this cold
You can hear them singing out their telegraph code
All the way down the telegraph road
You know I'd sooner forget but I remember those nights
When life was just a bet on a race between the lights
You had your head on my shoulder, you had your hand in my hair
Now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care
But believe in me baby and I'll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these rivers of headlights, these rivers of rain
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
'Cos I've run every red light on memory lane
I've seen desperation explode into flames
And I don't want to see it again ...
From all of these signs saying sorry but we're closed
All the way down the telegraph road
Tag: humanity despair civilization hope love-over-gold telegraph-road
Juliet, the dice were loaded from the start. / When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?
Mark KnopflerTag: romeo-and-juliet song song-lyrics rock dire-straits mark-knopfler pop-rock
There should be laughter after pain, there should be sunlight after rain, these things have always been the same, so why worry now?"
[Why Worry?]
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