SPIRITS (a song by the Gothic Rangers)

Butterfly and Chinese wisteria flowers by Xü Xi

Sentience rides in a chariot reined by an illusionist.
Something within decides before you've thought of it.
Everything in the body movin' like a fugue of Bach.
Every nerve in the brain pushin' toward the crunch.
Every memory like a ghost from Pandora's trunk.
Ennui, sweet ennui, won't you bring a melancholy funk?

I dream about floods, nonplussed, how'll I brook that enigma?
I wake up to consciousness of being swallowed like Jonah.
When the crisis leads to all of your cards being trumped,
and you think you hear faint calls from the shell of a conch,
it is way past time for a subtle thirteenth month.
Ennui, sweet ennui, won't you bring a bittersweet pungency?

Spirits moving in the mist of morning
like Japanese blossoms a-floating,
like strange laughter in the wind chimes,
like a waterfall singin' old rhymes.

Spirits moving in between the seasons
like the origami art of creasing,
like oblique flight of black butterflies,
like the shadow's edge holds a hundred sighs.

Spirits, spirits, I will no longer turn my back on you.
Spirits, spirits, I'll wade in your waters that are dark and cool.

The dead shall be spoken to in cadential conversation.
The days shall be slant like the poems of Emily Dickinson.
I'll walk the Street of Crocodiles, listen to Schubert.
I'll fall in love however I wish, even flagrantly tendered.
I will gaze at the stars and think about all mortal creatures.
Ennui, sweet ennui, won't you be my tearful teacher?

Spirits moving in twilight of evening,
in the plumage of a peacock's preening,
in the rhythm of two lovers dancing,
in the eyes of that girl reading tea leaves.

Spirits, spirits, I will no longer turn my back on you.
Spirits, spirits, I'll wade in your waters that are dark and cool.


words & music by Robert T Buck



Tim & Robin