The Second Coming
Turning and turning Within the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer Things fall apart The center cannot hold And a blood dimmed tide Is loosed upon the world
Nothing is sacred The ceremony sinks Innocence is drowned In anarchy The best lack conviction Given some time to think And the worst are full of passion Without mercy
Surely some revelation is at hand Surely it’s the second coming And wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Hoping and hoping As if by my weak faith The spirit of this world Would heal and rise Vast are the shadows That straddle and strafe And struggle in the darkness Troubling my eyes
Shaped like a lion It has the head of a man With a gaze as blank And pitiless as the sun And it’s moving its slow thighs Across the desert sands Through dark indignant Reeling falcons
Surely some revelation is at hand Surely it’s the second coming And the wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Raging and raging It rises from the deep Opening its eyes After twenty centuries Vexed to a nightmare Out of a stormy sleep By a rocking cradle By the Sea of Galilee
Surely some revelation is at hand Surely it’s the second coming And the wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
—W.B. Yeats |
Tupelo
Looka yonder! looka yonder! Looka yonder! a big black cloud come! A big black cloud come! O comes to Tupelo. Comes to Tupelo
Yonder on the horizon Yonder on the horizon Stopped at the mighty river Stopped at the mighty river and Sucked the damn thing dry Tupelo-o-o, o Tupelo In a valley hides a town called Tupelo
Distant thunder rumble. Distant thunder rumble Rumble hungry like the beast The beast it cometh, cometh down The beast it cometh, cometh down Wo wo wo-o-o Tupelo bound. Tupelo-o-o. Yeah Tupelo The beast it cometh, Tupelo bound
Why the hen won’t lay no egg Can’t get that cock to crow The nag is spooked and crazy O God help Tupelo! o God help Tupelo! O God help Tupelo! o God help Tupelo!
Ya can say these streets are rivers Ya can call these rivers streets Ya can tell ya self ya dreaming buddy But no sleep runs this deep No! No sleep runs this deep No sleep runs this deep Women at their windows Rain crashing on the pane Writing in the frost Tupelos’ shame. Tupelo’s shame O God help Tupelo! o God help Tupelo!
O go to sleep lil’ children The sandman’s on his way O go to sleep lil’ children The sandman’s in his way But the lil’ children know They listen to the beating of their blood Listen to the beating of their blood Listen to the beating of their blood Listen to the beating of their blood They listen to the beating of their blood The sandman’s mud! The sandman’s mud! And the black rain come down The black rain come down The black rain come down Water water everywhere Where no bird can fly no fish can swim Where no bird can fly no fish can swim No fish can swim Until the king is born! Until the king is born! In Tupelo! Tupelo-o-o! Til the king is born in Tupelo!
In a clap-board shack with a roof of tin Where the rain came down and leaked within A young mother frozen on a concrete floor With a bottle and a box and a cradle of straw Tupelo-o-o! o Tupelo! With a bottle and a box and a cradle of straw
Well Saturday gives what Sunday steals And a child is born on his brothers heels Come Sunday morn the first-born dead In a shoebox tied with a ribbon of red Tupelo-o-o! Hey Tupelo! In a shoebox buried with a ribbon of red
Oh mama rock you lil’ one slow Oh mama rock your baby Oh mama rock your lil’ one slow Oh God help Tupelo! Oh God help Tupelo! Mama rock your lil’ one slow The lil one will walk on Tupelo The lil one will walk on Tupelo Black rain come down, black rain come down Tupelo-o-o! yeah Tupelo! And carry the burden of Tupelo Tupelo-o-o! o Tupelo! yeah! The king will walk on Tupelo! Tupelo-o-o! o Tupelo! He carried the burden outa Tupelo! Tupelo-o-o! hey Tupelo! You will reap just what you sow
—Nick Cave |