Kill The Messenger

Jane it sure looks like rainThese Canadian plainsAnd their windblown hairJane the bruise colored cloudsThe smell of the groundIn the ripening airI have seen youIn your fluttering dressAnd your dry face of steelAs you're dragging your red rowing boatCross the forever fieldsSee Jane something's gone deadInside my headThere's nothing but fearJane the rivers of griefThe tears of reliefSeem ages from hereSometimes the beauty of lifeHits like lightening washing everythingclearAnd these dimmers of doubt flickerFade out and disappearBut Jane that is a luxuryThere are those of little faith it seemsAnd they beg for truth like charityAnd I see them on every street cornerThey are holding out one righteous handWhile the other leads the marching bandIn the shadow hymn of the scratchmanHeed the message, kill the messengerJane I heard you found loveWriggling up from the mudOn the shores of GranvilleBut Jane in the wink of an eyeThe naysayers flyLike hounds at your heelsJane they'll whisper your nameAnd you won't feel the chainsAnd you won't see the mossOh, Jane there's an art to the gameThe aesthetics of loveThe athletics of lossSometimes someone drifts byAnd our nets get entwined in the seaAnd in time I might findThey still mean something to meBut Jane that is a luxuryThere are those of little faith in meAnd they pull me down like gravityAnd I see them on every street cornerThey are masters in the sleight of handThey are dancers and they step so grandTo the shibboleth of ShadowlandHeed the message, kill the messenger