35 – Bill Callahan

I can’t see myself in the books I read these days
Used to be I saw myself on every single page
‘Twas nice to know my life had been lived before
But I can’t see myself in the books that I read anymore

Tired eyes wander
Into their own sight
Leaving a body unscripted
And forced to improvised

By being so much as I was
I was getting so far away
From anything that I had ever known
And everyone and night had fallen

I could no longer find my way, Lord
And the moon came up high
And I said take me home
To anyone as bright as day

But the fact of the sun comes
The fiction of the moon
The moon can make a false love feel true
It can make me still wanting you
Oh, the moon

I watched that old girl leave her stable tonight
And neither she nor I could look away
As she drew a map for me on the back of the masterplan

And you know I had to laugh
And I wished that I was like that moon on her path
Or that train on her track

‘Cause when I looked out back
The road was pulling out so soft, fast and black
You know it takes what it gives back
And I’ve got your book in my lap