Kill The Messenger

Jane it sure looks like rain
 These Canadian plains
 And their windblown hair
 Jane the bruise colored clouds
 The smell of the ground
 In the ripening air
 I have seen you
 In your fluttering dress
 And your dry face of steel
 As you're dragging your red rowing boat
 Cross the forever fields
 See Jane something's gone dead
 Inside my head
 There's nothing but fear
 Jane the rivers of grief
 The tears of relief
 Seem ages from here
 Sometimes the beauty of life
 Hits like lightening washing everything
 clear
 And these dimmers of doubt flicker
 Fade out and disappear
 But Jane that is a luxury
 There are those of little faith it seems
 And they beg for truth like charity
 And I see them on every street corner
 They are holding out one righteous hand
 While the other leads the marching band
 In the shadow hymn of the scratchman
 Heed the message, kill the messenger
 Jane I heard you found love
 Wriggling up from the mud
 On the shores of Granville
 But Jane in the wink of an eye
 The naysayers fly
 Like hounds at your heels
 Jane they'll whisper your name
 And you won't feel the chains
 And you won't see the moss
 Oh, Jane there's an art to the game
 The aesthetics of love
 The athletics of loss
 Sometimes someone drifts by
 And our nets get entwined in the sea
 And in time I might find
 They still mean something to me
 But Jane that is a luxury
 There are those of little faith in me
 And they pull me down like gravity
 And I see them on every street corner
 They are masters in the sleight of hand
 They are dancers and they step so grand
 To the shibboleth of Shadowland
 Heed the message, kill the messenger