Bruce Cockburn Follow

Dull twilight spits hesitant sulfur rain
Sky been down around our ears for weeks
Only once, gap-glimpsed moon
Over that anal-retentive border wall
As we laughed through some midnight checkpoint
Under yellow urban cloud

Weeks of frantic motion, petrol veins of Europe pumping
Through scratchy acid-bitten transparent winter trees
Through brownish haze that makes a ghost of the horizon
I'm rushing after some ever-receding destination

Berlin tonight
Table-dancing in black tights
Waving a silver crutch in the blue lights
Shape changing over glass
In the front line of the last gasp

Green shoots of winter, wheat and patches of snow
Russian walks dog in Saxon field
From the top of a solitary tree like the one on the flag of Lebanon
Unblinking eye of hawk follows traffic on the autobahn

Tank convoy winds down smokestack valley
Proud chemical pennants wave against the sky
Turret gunner laughs when I throw up my hands
I'm all glasses and grin to him under my commie fur hat

Berlin tonight
Table-dancing in black tights
Waving a silver crutch in the blue lights
Shape changing over glass
In the front line of the last gasp

Berlin tonight
Table-dancing in black tights
Waving a silver crutch in the blue lights
Shape changing over glass
In the front line of the last gasp