Van Morrison - For Mr. Thomas lyrics
[Van Morrison - For Mr. Thomas lyrics]
From faded newsprint used to wrap a fish
Inscrutably the muse selects your face
As I sit drinking famously in an Irish bar
Five thousand miles and thirty years away
With all the usual ceremonial you
Were crowned one night
King of the field where doctors nail the cows
To make of the cock's quill
The rights of language
And the pricking heart a
Sword against the hours
Let smirking scholars writhe in
Their favourite bondage
And hold you plaintiff to the charge of art
Exhibit A: he falls on legendary lines
Singing mother I don't want a
A pain here in my heart all right!
The judge in me sucks eggs
And jerks the sacred meat
But the boy in me still
Dreams in Milk Wood town
Like two provincial bastards
Playing the galleries
I hold your photo to a mirror upside down
And as bacon wafts through hungry streets
Your ghost pervails
Just like an old ex-boxer aged twenty two
Staged-up like Falstaff or the
Wild welsh Rimbaud
You'd would laugh to see the
Monograms they make of you
Ah, Mr thomas let us ramble
Through the midnight fair
Let us throw old bottles at the ferris wheel
Let us paint library on the library
Let us raid the moonlight
Let us steal whatever we
Are supposed to steal one more
Let us watch while the days
Grow daily more mundane
That rough God go riding with his shears
Hack wide the belly of the swollen mountains
And rip molten heroes forth
From it's furious tears
Oh, Mr thomas, oh, Mr thomas
Let us steal whatever we're supposed to steal
Mr thomas, oh, Mr thomas
Why don't we feel whatever
We're supposed to feel
Oh, Mr thomas, Mr thomas
Why don't we feel whatever
We're supposed to feel oh, Mr thomas let us
Ramble through the midnight
Let us throw bottles at the ferris wheel
Let us paint library on the library
Let us raid the moonlight
Let us steal whatever we're supposed to steal
Inscrutably the muse selects your face
As I sit drinking famously in an Irish bar
Five thousand miles and thirty years away
With all the usual ceremonial you
Were crowned one night
King of the field where doctors nail the cows
To make of the cock's quill
The rights of language
And the pricking heart a
Sword against the hours
Let smirking scholars writhe in
Their favourite bondage
And hold you plaintiff to the charge of art
Exhibit A: he falls on legendary lines
Singing mother I don't want a
A pain here in my heart all right!
The judge in me sucks eggs
And jerks the sacred meat
But the boy in me still
Dreams in Milk Wood town
Like two provincial bastards
Playing the galleries
I hold your photo to a mirror upside down
And as bacon wafts through hungry streets
Your ghost pervails
Just like an old ex-boxer aged twenty two
Staged-up like Falstaff or the
Wild welsh Rimbaud
You'd would laugh to see the
Monograms they make of you
Ah, Mr thomas let us ramble
Through the midnight fair
Let us throw old bottles at the ferris wheel
Let us paint library on the library
Let us raid the moonlight
Let us steal whatever we
Are supposed to steal one more
Let us watch while the days
Grow daily more mundane
That rough God go riding with his shears
Hack wide the belly of the swollen mountains
And rip molten heroes forth
From it's furious tears
Oh, Mr thomas, oh, Mr thomas
Let us steal whatever we're supposed to steal
Mr thomas, oh, Mr thomas
Why don't we feel whatever
We're supposed to feel
Oh, Mr thomas, Mr thomas
Why don't we feel whatever
We're supposed to feel oh, Mr thomas let us
Ramble through the midnight
Let us throw bottles at the ferris wheel
Let us paint library on the library
Let us raid the moonlight
Let us steal whatever we're supposed to steal