In Transit Songtext
To find the many in the one
He sweated under foreign skies
To see the stars behind the sun
So space and time were now undone
Reality was undisguised
We found the many in the one
There is no photograph, not one
That shows the mind behind the eyes
He sweated under foreign skies
To see the stars behind the sun
So space and time were now undone
Reality was undisguised
We found the many in the one
There is no photograph, not one
That shows the mind behind the eyes
He saw the stars behind the sun
Not with a sword, or knife, or gun
A simple picture severed ties
Hе found the many in the one
Light bеnds around us. So we run
As gravity reclassifies
The stars we saw behind the sun
To see the world beyond the skies
To know the mind behind the eyes
To find the many in the one
He showed us stars behind the sun
Unfucked, or anyway retiring
In the awkward sense. Retirement will never be an option
The gruff gentleman with the cap who understands
What the numbers mean
Remembers a bicycle ride when he was younger
The smoke of the cigarettes he does not smoke kicks at his lungs
Mixing with the buzz of the booze he doesn’t ever drink
A convivial pint after the ride into the country gave him such a thirst
And afterwards they lay on their back in the stubble
Staring up at the stars. Together. All the stars
Countable as the words in a Bible
Countable as the hairs on his friend’s head
All accountable, and that is why they never truly touched
The shadow of prison or disgrace perhaps moving between them
Like the shadow of an eclipse
And, in another life, at another time
To see the stars behind the sun
He takes his photographs
Fighting the cloud cover. Becoming
The thing that happened in Principe
When he proved that the German was right
That light had weight
Half a year after the Armistice
A populariser, but not courting popularity
Somewhen a boy is counting stars
Somewhen a man is photographing light
Somewhen his finger strokes the stubble on another’s cheek
And for a moment everything is relative
Not with a sword, or knife, or gun
A simple picture severed ties
Hе found the many in the one
Light bеnds around us. So we run
As gravity reclassifies
The stars we saw behind the sun
To see the world beyond the skies
To know the mind behind the eyes
To find the many in the one
He showed us stars behind the sun
Unfucked, or anyway retiring
In the awkward sense. Retirement will never be an option
The gruff gentleman with the cap who understands
What the numbers mean
Remembers a bicycle ride when he was younger
The smoke of the cigarettes he does not smoke kicks at his lungs
Mixing with the buzz of the booze he doesn’t ever drink
A convivial pint after the ride into the country gave him such a thirst
And afterwards they lay on their back in the stubble
Staring up at the stars. Together. All the stars
Countable as the words in a Bible
Countable as the hairs on his friend’s head
All accountable, and that is why they never truly touched
The shadow of prison or disgrace perhaps moving between them
Like the shadow of an eclipse
And, in another life, at another time
To see the stars behind the sun
He takes his photographs
Fighting the cloud cover. Becoming
The thing that happened in Principe
When he proved that the German was right
That light had weight
Half a year after the Armistice
A populariser, but not courting popularity
Somewhen a boy is counting stars
Somewhen a man is photographing light
Somewhen his finger strokes the stubble on another’s cheek
And for a moment everything is relative
