@ALBUM: 77.in.the.falling.dark Author: Bruce Cockburn ALBUM title: In the Falling Dark (1977) TN-26 Total Duration: 48:44 (10 tracks) @SONG: Lord of the Starfields (3:25) Lord of the starfields Ancient of Days Universe Maker here's a song in your praise. wings of the storm cloud beginning and end you make my heart leap like a banner in the wind. O Love that fires the sun keep me burning. Lord of the starfields sower of life, heaven and earth are full of your light. Voice of the nova smile of the dew all of our yearning only comes home to you. O Love that fires the sun keep me burning. (Burritt's Rapids 12/5/76) @SONG: Vagabondage (4:18) vagabondage la danse du paysage et dans les nuages le decoupage d'un tour billon avec des naufrages vagabondage toujours en route nous sommes encore en route on joue du tambour on joue de la flute comme l'eau qui bondit d'une chute nous sommes en route et bientot dans le berceau un autre petit tzigane qui jouera du piano pour les chemineaux dans les bistros de la lune saut perilleux subitement il pleut de la lumiere partout et puis tout a coup nous sommes trois clowns fabuleux faisant des sauts perilleux nous cinglons dans le wagon d'un train qui grandit sans cesse comme l'univers: haute dans les airs une rose des veuts pointe vers des nouvelles plages. (Ottawa 10/7/76) TRANSLATION: "Drifting" drifting the dance of the landscape and in the clouds the cutout of a whirlwind with shipwrecks drifting always on our way again we're on our way somebody plays the drum somebody plays the flute like water leaping from a waterfall we're on our way and soon in the cradle another little gypsy who will play the piano for the hobos in the bars on the moon somersault suddenly it's raining light all over the place and then all at once we're three improbable clowns doing somersaults we skim along in the coach of a train that's perpetually expanding like the universe: high in the air a compass-card points toward new shores. (Ottawa 10/7/76) @SONG: In the Falling Dark (4:51) and the lights lie tumbled out like gems the moon is nothing but a toothless grin floating out on the evening wind the smell of sweat and lube oil pervades the night and the rush of life in flight at the speed of light a million footsteps whispering a guitar sounds -- some voices sing smoke on the breeze -- eyes that sting far in the east a yellow cloud bank climbs stretching away to be part of tomorrow's time. earthbound while everything expands so many grains of sand slipping from hand to hand catching the light and falling into dark the world fades out like an overheard remark in the falling dark. light pours from a million radiant lives off of kids and dogs and the hard-shelled husbands and wives all that glory shining around and we're all caught taking a dive and all the beasts of the hills around shout, "such a waste! don't you know that from the first to the last we're all one in the gift of Grace!" (Ottawa 9/3/76) @SONG: Little Seahorse (4:29) Little seahorse swimming in a primal sea heartbeat like a leaf quaking in the breeze i feel magic as Coyote in the middle of the moon-wild night. In the forge-fire time your mother glowed so bright you were like a voice calling in the night and i'm watching the curtain rising on a whole new set of dreams. The world is waiting like a Lake Superior gale a locomotive racing along the rail. It'll sweep you away but you know that you're never alone. Little seahorse floating on a primal tide quickening like a spark in a haystack side i already love you and i don't even know who you are. (Toronto 14/12/75) @SONG: Water Into Wine (5:31) (Instrumental) @SONG: Silver Wheels (4:42) high speed drift on a prairie road hot tires sing like a string being bowed sudden town rears up then explodes fragments resolve into white line code whirl on silver wheels (chorus) black earth energy receptor fields undulate under a grey cloud shield we outrun a river colour brick red mud that cleaves apart hills soil rich as blood highway squeeze in construction steam stop caution hard hat yellow insect machines silver steel towers stalk rolling land toward distant stacks that shout "Feed on demand" 100 miles later the sky has changed urban anticipation -- we get 4 lanes redorange furnace sphere notches down throws up silhouette skyline in brown sundogs flare on windshield glass sudden swoop skyward iron horse overpass pass a man walking like the man in the moon walking like his head's full of irish fiddle tunes the skin around every city looks the same miles of flat neon spelling well-known names USED TRUCKS DIRTY DONUTS YOU YOU'RE THE ONE fat wheeled cars squeal into the sun radio speakers gargle top 40 trash muzak soundtrack to slow collapse planet engines pulsate in sidereal time if you listen close you can hear the whine (Burritt's Rapids 21/7/76) @SONG: Giftbearer (4:42) (Instrumental) @SONG: Gavin's Woodpile (8:03) working out on Gavin's woodpile safe within the harmony of kin visions begin to crowd my eyes like a meteor shower in the autumn skies and the soil beneath me seems to moan with a sound like the wind through a hollow bone and my mind fills with figures like Lappish runes of power... and log slams on rough-hewn log and a voice from somewhere scolds a barking dog. i remember a bleak-eyed prisoner in the Stoney Mountain life-suspension home you drink and fight and damage someone and they throw you away for some years of boredom one year done and five more to go -- no job waiting so no parole and over and over they tell you that you're nothing... and i toss another log on Gavin's woodpile and wonder at the lamp-warm window's welcome smile. i remember crackling embers coloured windows shining through the rain like the coloured slicks on the English River death in the marrow and death in the liver and some government gambler with his mouth full of steak saying "if you can't eat the fish, fish in some other lake. To watch a people die -- it is no new thing." and the stack of wood grows higher and higher and a helpless rage seems to set my brain on fire. and everywhere the free space fills like a punctured diving suit and i'm paralyzed in the face of it all cursed with the curse of these modern times distant mountains, blue and liquid, luminous like a thickening of sky flash in my mind like a stairway to life -- a train whistle cuts through the scene like a knife three hawks wheel in a dazzling sky -- a slow motion jet makes them look like a lie and i'm left to conclude there's no human answer near... but there's a narrow path to a life to come that explodes into sight with the power of the sun. a mist rises as the sun goes down and the light that's left forms a kind of crown the earth is bread, the sun is wine it's a sign of a hope that's ours for all time. (Burritt's Rapids 17/11/75) (* "Lappish runes" -- Lapp Shamans covered their drums with striking magical symbols, which were then used to divine, contact spirits, etc.) (* "English River" -- river system in north-western Ontario, polluted with mercury for the next hundred years by the Reid paper company. Nobody is doing much about the fact that the native people who live along its course have lost both food and liveliho @SONG: I'm Gonna Fly Someday (4:03) i'm gonna fly someday (repeat) if i keep ready and watch and pray i'm gonna fly someday. (Calgary 29/2/76) @SONG: Festival of Friends (4:40) an elegant song won't hold up long when the palace falls and the parlour's gone we all must leave but it's not the end we'll meet again at the festival of friends. smiles and laughter and pleasant times there's love in the world but it's hard to find i'm so glad i found you -- i'd just like to extend an invitation to the festival of friends. some of us live and some of us die someday God's going to tell us why open your heart and grow with what life sends that's your ticket to the festival of friends. like an imitation of a good thing past these days of darkness surely will not last Jesus was here and he's coming again to lead us to his festival of friends. black snake highway -- sheet metal ballet it's just so much snow on a summer day whatever happens, it's not the end we'll meet again at the festival of friends. (Burritt's Rapids 5/4/75)